Just the Way You Are
by AkashaAvani
Summary: Kurt and David may start out as passive friends, but quickly discover that the oomph they've been looking for is right in front of them. If they have the courage to reach for it. Spunk to match laid-back, easy-going to match daring tenacity   Kavid.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** I'm not entirely sure if I should be posting this. There are a few really phenomenal Kavid fics already out there, and I'm not sure this should be anywhere near their awesomeness. Seriously. Operation Klaine: Alternate One is _amazing_. It is seriously happy-inducing. But my muse is dragging my forcibly to write something, and right now I REALLY enjoy David and Kurt. Probably because David is suddenly becoming my favorite character. Hopefully I will eventually do him justice. At any rate, happy reading! Please feel free to comment/suggest/demand/nag me with thoughts/ideas/demands/corrections. :D Much love!_

_P.S. Do not own Glee or any of it's characters. I am just the happy molester of the repeat button for Bills, Bills, Bills. ;)  
_

* * *

February was definitely _not_ in his list of 'These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things.'

Neither was Ohio.

Because if you put those two together, you get a freak snow storm that will last until the end of never, therefore landing him snowed in and stuck at Dalton over the weekend, when what he really, really, _really _needed was girl time.

But no. Instead, the Fates seemed to have synced their cycles so that all three of them were PMSing while checking in on him. So now, instead of doing makeovers and chatting like old biddies with his girls, he was still in his dorm, with the basics of his wardrobe donning his fashionable person, listening to:

1)Teenage Dream

2)Hey, Soul Sister

3)Bills, Bills, Bills

4)Just the Way You Are

5)Alejandro

On repeat. For the past three hours.

_Why? _you may ask.

Because the dapper boy he was head over heels for had asked him for his help to _serenade another man_. And even if that had turned out horribly for Blaine, and the pair of them had gotten coffee and Kurt had shoved his own hurt feelings aside to put Blaine's to rest and they had gone on like everything was okie-dandy and they were just regular friend again, it didn't make it any easier for Kurt. Cause being in the early stages of post-dejected-infatuation _sucks_.

A knock on the door lifted his head from where it had fallen beside the forgotten Vogue's glossy pages. "You know you don't have to knock," he said, figuring it was Blaine – not many others ventured into his room yet, being the strange, poor new kid that nobody really knew anything about.

"I guess I didn't get the memo where it stated that I needed to be psychic."

Kurt pulled the classy blue headphones out of his ears and grinned at the tall boy who walked in, gate loose and even. "David! What brings you to my neck of the... well... Dalton?"

David's smile lost it's brilliance, and he sat next to Kurt with the careful grace he always had.

"Apparently it's not to tell me how brilliant I am for convincing the Warblers to perform publicly." Kurt looked at each of David's features intently, searching for the cause of the problem. David was good at a poker face – perhaps not as successive as Wes, with his terminally aloof demeanor – but still good at keeping a neutral balance, overall. So it took a minute for Kurt to find what he was looking for.

A face that was so slightly tinted with sadness; you can always tell by the way the outer edges depress downward, the pair move closer together and curve almost upward towards the center. Combined with that, his (very attractive) mouth was tugging down against his will to keep it straight.

From there, Kurt's instincts led him in his mental search-and-discard of creating plausible reasons for this sadness, then discarding what didn't fit. All in all, it took him just over two minutes for the metaphorical lightbulb to brighten above his head.

"Let me go out on a limb."

"You usually do."

"Only to your rigidly starched student body of wealthy snobs." Kurt held up his hand to stay David's denial. "Not all of you, but it's the truth for nearly all of them, and you know it. Now, back to the subject on hand. You had something grand planned out for Valentine's Day, something that involved insane amounts of money, thought, and heart on your part. The Dapper Dumbass decides he wants to profess his love to some blond floozy he's overcome with desire for, and I, fool of the century, endorse him and use my regrettable intellect to convince the entire Warbler ensemble to serenade his new-found love on the most special day of the year." Kurt kept his head forward, but glanced sideways at David. "How am I doing so far?"

Silence for a long moment. "Not too far off the mark."

"You just disagree on the Dapper Dumbass, and only because you're one of his besties, but that's alright. Moving on! From our massive hit with flash mobbing a GAP—a horrible idea, by the way—we come to where we are now. The Dapper Dumbass is left feeling humiliated and rejected, I am left feeling humiliated and_ de_jected, and you are left with a screaming tirade from that toneless banshee you called a human female, because it's not enough to have the highest GPA in a _ridiculously_ competitive school, to be on two different sports teams, have three intellectual extracurricular activities, _and_ be a council member on the Warblers. No. You have to evolve, develop the ability to read her mind from _across the fucking state_, know _exactly_ what she wants—_when _she wants it—and also clone yourself so you could be in two places at once, because the world would just. s_top. _if you actually chose to—dare I say it?—put something above her. That about right?"

"..."

"It's okay to feel intimidated. I won't judge you as a lesser human being because of it."

"You're eerily brilliant sometimes. You know that, right? Brilliant, but eerie."

"Yes, well, brilliance does come with a price. Enough about me, though. You shouldn't let this tone-deaf, fashionably tasteless diva get you down like this! I mean, come on, David. You can do so much _better_ than her! Or than any of those spoiled bitches, honestly."

"Hey. Wes' girlfriend goes to her school as well."

Kurt looked at him pointedly, eyebrow raised and his, _bitch, please_ face ready to jump out in 3-D if it became any more animated. "Really? Do I even need to say anything to that?"

"What do you mean?"

"If Wes had any more money, his skin would be saturated green."

David looked down at the floor, obviously fighting a smile. "I can't exactly argue with that."

"No, you can't. So you should just stop arguing with me altogether. Because—and I promise, I won't let this go to my head—we both know that I'm right. About everything I've just said. You _cannot_ let this get you down. She's so not worth it."

"I just... I put _so much_ into this, Kurt. I had the dinner reservation, a garden I had designed so that each of the hanging lights would be _perfect_, the hotel room-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay. I get it. You're perfect and romantic. And making it hard to decide whether to swoon with that, or vomit at the sweetness. Which, by the way, was wasted on a _total. bitch_. Just saying."

David didn't laugh. He just stared at his hands, clasped in his lap tightly. "She said if I was any _real _sort of man, I would have -"

"Yeah, don't even finish that. What a crock of shit, coming out of the mouth of a piece of shit. It's like two generations of shit combined into one."

Dark brown eyes flew up to glasz, wide with shock. Kurt Hummel was actually saying something like that? What had happened to the classy diva?

"Don't look at me like that. It's the truth. She's a bitch that's probably bitching to her little money-grabbing... other-bitches," Kurt said when he apparently couldn't find the right words, "about how horrible you are, and how she always had to call you, and how you never thought about what she thought or wanted-"

"Gee, thanks, Kurt. I feel loads better."

"Hush. You know why she's saying all of that right now?"

"You just told me to hush. Now you want an answer?"

"It was rhetorical. Keep up here, David."

David's jaw slacked as he stared, aghast. Someone had actually insinuated that he wasn't keeping up with them. That he wasn't always the brightest star in the sky. (Crayons are much too far beneath him.) This was... awesome. Horrifying, but after the shock wore off, he laughed harder than he had in... longer than he could remember.

"That's more like it."

He turned to see Kurt smiling at him, nodding in approval before continuing with that strange logic that somehow solved all problems. "Now, the real reason she's spreading all of those nasty things is because she's a spoiled brat that didn't get her way. You didn't put her above everything else, and it won't matter now if you do everything short of buying her a country in her name to try and make it better."

"Because she's a spoiled brat?" David grinned at the boy next to him.

"Exactly. Because she's a spoiled brat who didn't get her way, so now she's going to save face and try to look like she's the heroin instead the harbinger of the death of your phenomenal tone-precision, all by never speaking to you civilly again."

"So what exactly do you propose I do?"

Kurt grinned evilly. "Don't call. Don't text. Don't contact her in any way, shape, or form."

David was horrified. To do anything other than those things would be... _wrong_. It wouldn't be the thing a gentleman would do. David repeated that last thought out loud.

"No. It's the smart thing to do. If you _have_ to be a gentleman, text her once. Say you're sorry things didn't work out, but it's clear that neither of you possess the traits the other is looking for, for a relationship to work. You obviously have more balls than she wants in a man, and she has a black hole—actually, it's more like a green hole, since all she really wants is the green stuff, anyway—where her heart is supposed to be. But, after you text her that, no more texts, no more messages, no nothing."

David looked at Kurt, who was completely serious. After a long moment, the taller Warbler looked down at his hands. "I'm not saying the last part," he muttered.

Kurt gave a small laugh. "That's because you are a good man, David."

"Yeah, well..." he grinned and shrugged. "What else can you do?"

"Send her to a crack house."

"What?"

"...Nothing."

David's direct stare burned into Kurt's now like a mechanical dog lazer-pinpoint-targeting a mechanical bone. "No, no, I hear a story in this. Spill, Hummel."

Kurt assumed the _bitch, please_ face once more. "And what are you going to do, Johnson? Serenade me with When I Get You Alone? That should do the trick."

David hid a chuckle behind his hand. "That was bad."

"It was horrible! The guy looked angry half the time, horrified the other. With awe sprinkled in both because he was being pursued by the impregnating voice of one Blaine Anderson, so what else could be expected?" Kurt broke off and sighed harshly, letting his head fall so that his jaw was cupped by his hand.

"Ah. Wes and I had thought this might happen."

Kurt rolled his head so that he could see the other man. "What? Fall head over heels because we sang one flirty duet together about drinks with roofies in them and know each others coffee orders?"

"That too, but mostly because of the fact that the Dapper Dumbass is careless."

The countertenor blew out a heavy breath. "Not going to hear any arguments from me."

It was David's turn to sigh as he leaned his shoulder into Kurt's, knocking the arm out from beneath his head. The darker boy smiled. "You can't let him get you down, Kurt," he said, echoing Kurt's earlier sentiments. "He is _so_ not worth it."

Pale lids closed over brilliant eyes, but not before David saw the sheen of tears coming quickly to the surface. "But that's the thing. He _was_. He was so... dashing, and charming, and smart and funny and-"

"Completely self-absorbed, and trampled all over your feelings because it felt good for him to feel wanted and in the role of being a mentor and crush-ee. He's not perfect, Kurt. Not by any standpoint. He's not a bad guy at all, don't get me wrong. He's just not exactly the white knight. More like the lord of the manor that occasionally steps on the guests' feet while chasing after the scullery maid."

This brought a laugh from Kurt, making David's smile widen. "Really, David? Really?"

"I like history. Sue me."

Kurt mulled this over for a moment, sucking in his lower lip as he did so. David's eyes quickly raised and he dismissed his brief view as an errant twitch without any real thought at all. "I don't think so. You would probably win, given the money behind your parents."

David shrugged nonchalantly. "This is probably true." He sighed, realizing this most likely brought the conversation to a wrap. However, he was reluctant to get up and go. He enjoyed being able to talk this freely, without having to always sound intelligent. He could joke, and Kurt would laugh. He could say something completely inappropriate and random, and Kurt would probably just take it as off-beat humor. Most of all, he could talk about something that was bothering him, and Kurt would sort it out in that way he had of diving straight into the heart of things and divining the problem, cause and solution.

"You know, you don't have to get up and rush out the door. I have movies outside of musicals and classics. You look like a Transformers sort of person. Or maybe Avatar."

David stared. "You have... action movies?"

"I'm gay, David. Not blind or dead."

"But... it doesn't fit with the..."

"I was on the football team as kicker. I won them the only game that year. I am still very much a guy. I just happen to have exceptional taste."

David looked around, a little lost. Every time he thought he had figured this kid out, he turned a corner and WHACHAAA! There was another facet. Not that he was comparing Kurt to a diamond. That would be like comparing a lion to a tiger. Wait. Weren't there those things called ligers? Bad comparison. It meant nothing. Never mind.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm bored."

Kurt looked up from his history textbook and smiled at his frequent visitor. During the week, David usually came to his room, or Kurt came to his, or their group of the Three Musketeers + D'Artagnan studied in the Great Hall commons. Since the Gap Attack, Blaine and Kurt had become friends once more, and Blaine had apologized to David profusely and offered to smooth things over with Chelsea for David. To which the latter had shuddered, politely refused, and simply asked the tenor never to repeat his mistake again. Ever.

So it was no shock to the fashionista when the fellow Warbler barged in, unannounced, unexpectedly, but not unwelcomed, and flopped onto the empty bed across the room. "You can't be bored. There's too much homework to be bored."

"Kurt, it's _Friday_. No one does homework on a Friday. And why are you still here, anyway? Don't you have a family that lives a couple of hours away?"

"Typically. Except said family is away for a New Directions performance this weekend. Which, typically, I would be more than happy to drive a few more hours to go and see. Except for the fact that I have a mountain of homework, and they are staying at a hotel overnight. And if I am in a hotel with my girls, there is absolutely _no way_ that doing homework will even cross my mind. So," he concluded with a great intake of air, which he promptly released in a heavy sigh, "I am here for the weekend. Doing said mountain of homework."

David frowned sympathetically. "That sucks. Would you like some help?"

"Ordinarily, I would say no immediately. However, for the sake of my sanity and my GPA, I think some help on this stupid history assignment would be much appreciated. I promise to repay you with cookies."

Ever eager to receive the magic cookies that Dalton had become acquainted (and addicted) with, David dove towards the other bed, and within the hour Kurt understood more about the Westward Expansion than he had throughout the entire week of classes.

And this is how Wes found David and Kurt in the student kitchen, with Kurt trying his best to get the ingredients mixed in the special way his mother had taught him, and David doing his best to eat all of it before Kurt could finish. Now, while this may sound innocently mischievous enough, the picture that Wes walked in on was Kurt hunched over the counter, trying to protect the bowl of cookie dough, and David curled over Kurt, arms reaching around him in an attempt to get the bowl out from under the slender teen's body.

Which turned out looking like Kurt was bent over the counter, with David up against his back with his hands reaching for something _intimate_.

Strictly put, this was _not_ an innocent picture.

"Well now."

The hysterically laughing pair looked up sharply, looked from Wes' shell-shocked gaze to themselves, then at each other, and started to laugh even harder.

"It's honestly _not_ what it looks like," David wheezed, and backed away so Kurt could uncurl himself from the counter, revealing the bowl of dough beneath him. Wes' gaze zoomed in on the bowl, and attained a distinctly predatory glint.

Kurt, recognizing this look from the last time he had made the cookies, shoved the bowl behind his back and held up the HBIC Finger. "Not just no, but _hell_ no, Wesley Hayes-Preston. You are _so _not having any of this until it is finished. And when it is finished, you will share it with the others."

"But _Kuuuuurt_," David whined. "I thought I got it because I helped you with your homework!"

Wes' sharp gaze whipped to David, and the normally stoic boy now looked ready to murder. "You are _not_ getting all of those, David Johnson."

Dark eyes met dark eyes, and David shifted into battle-ready position. "And what are you going to do about it, Hayes-Preston?"

Kurt looked back and forth between the two. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He said, knowing it would shock the two enough to get their full attention. "You're both from multi-million families, and you're ready to have a battle to the death over _cookies_?"

The two looked sheepish, which was amazing, given Wes' normally rod-assed personality. David was the first to rally to his defense. "But Kurt, they're so good!"

"They're _ cookies!_ Who would make an ass out of themselves by getting into a bitch fight over _cookies_?"

"Actually, it would probably be the most epic, shock-and-awe encounter you will ever see," came a dapper voice from the doorframe behind them all. They turned to see Blaine, shoulder leaned against the jam, looking both excited and amused. "Wes is the Jet-Li-meets-Jackie-Chan of Tae Kwon Do, and David is the master of amazing at... whatever he does."

"Krav Maga," David responded with a grin.

"So... wait a minute... you two... were actually _serious_... about fighting to the _death_ over _fucking. cookies?" _Kurt's look told them all that he was about two seconds away from _throwing _said copulating cookies at their heads.

"Yes." Wes' face was absolutely, 100% serious.

Kurt made a noise in the back of his throat, and before the others could run in terror of SupremeDivaBitch!Kurt, he exploded.

Laughing, that is.

It took the other three a long moment before they sighed in relief.

"You... have... got to be... _kidding _me! What are you guys, like, two? I'm in a mad house. Blaine, you lied to me. This place is completely fucking nuts. And what's worse is that I'm actually _enjoying_ this! What is wrong with me?" Kurt was wiping tears off now, laughing so hard he was crying.

Wes shocked them all by smiling. It was the first smile Kurt had ever seen, and one of maybe a half dozen that the other two had ever witnessed. "You get used to the insanity. And besides, you know you'd miss us."

Kurt shook his head, but he was smiling and still swiping at his cheeks. "I suppose I have to concede to your logic, Mr. Hayes-Preston. Now all of you get over here and grab a spoon before I change my mind and chuck you out of my kitchen."

The boys didn't even argue with his self-proclaimed possession of a public facility. They dove towards Kurt so fast he made a scared squawk and ducked, covering his head. Not that the others noticed. They were too busy finding the largest spoon possible and taking meteor-sized chunks out of the batter and running away.

"You sons-of-fu"

Three cackles could be heard all the way down the hallway as the three guilty sons-of-somethings ran full-tilt away from the scene of the crime.


	3. Chapter 3

Two months after the Screaming Banshee:

"Kurt! It's Friday!" David crashed into the aforementioned boy's room like a rampaging two-year-old.

"Go find Wes and challenge him to some crazy martial arts fight."

"That wouldn't be fair. And besides, it's Friday! Movie Night!"

"You say that only because you do Krav Maga and he does Tae Kwon Do. To the rest of us plebeians, it's still martial arts. And besides, I haven't finished this chapter yet."

Kurt felt the heat of David's focused stare now, even though half of the countertenor's attention was focused on the newest book he had gotten. "How do you know that?"

"You told me that the last time you were bored, remember? I attempted to make cookies, but you and that uptight ninja nearly ended up killing each other for the uncooked cookie dough."

"That was a month and a half ago. Two weekends after the Screaming Banshee broke up with me and I came in and -"

"Yes, yes. We all know the story like it was the last chapter. Is there a point somewhere in there?"

"But... but... how do you remember what we do? Wes' choice, I can understand you being able to recall; it's a fairly well known style. But Krav Maga? Not usually something someone remembers."

"What can I say, David? It's in the endearing spy recollection log." He finally glanced over with a half smile raising a corner of his lips, both challenging and teasing at the same time.

"But Blaine doesn't even remember! And he's known for like... years!" David was still sputtering.

"Blaine is not an endearing spy."

The confused/amazed look turned into a laugh. "He'd be more like a dapper, charming spy. Not nearly as nice as an endearing one. After all, endearing spy is endearing." He nodded sagely.

"If you weren't straight, David Johnson, I'd almost say you were flirting with me." Kurt raised a brow with that little knowing half-smile.

David grinned. "I never said I _was_ straight, Kurt Hummel. Everyone just assumes."

Silence. That had _not_ sounded like that in his head. Chaos erupted in the form of verbal vomit spewing out of his mouth faster than a pinwheel can spin. "I mean—crap—not to say that I'm flirting—and— not that I'm flirting with _you—_shit, not that there's anything wrong with flirting with you—but—I don't think that I was flirting with you, because I wasn't—but that doesn't mean that someone else who said that wouldn't be—but that's not how I meant it—and you're brilliant, you already know this—crap, that _does_ sound like flirting—well... fuck." David was blushing beneath all of that color, and Kurt was rolling on his bed, clutching his ribs.

David took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Let me try that again."

"No, please, don't! No more!" Kurt was wiping at tears daintily, like he was protecting his cheeks from mascara.

David looked at the floor, an interesting shade of maroon mixed with his naturally dark skin tone. "Ididn'tmeanitthatway," he mumbled.

"Aw, poor Davie. Of course you didn't. But it was too funny to _not_ laugh." When his friend continued to pout, Kurt sat up and patted the spot beside him. David dragged his feet over and plunked down on the bed so heavily that Kurt bounced. The pouting boy still didn't raise his eyes from the floor, so Kurt nudged the taller boy's shoulder with his own. No response. "Aw, David, don't be like that. I'm not offended, I promise. And I promise not to tease you about it... much." David's gaze flicked to Kurt, narrowing threateningly. "Not gonna work, tough guy. Now, why don't you tell me about this not-so-straightness. Because, my fellow Warbler, you don't show up on my Gaydar 3.0, and trust me, it is so damn near perfect it's like the GPS of LGBT."

That cracked a smile out of the highly embarrassed David. "Fine. It's just not something anyone really talks about, and I don't consider it that big of a deal. I just like who I like, and what's the big difference? Guys, girls, black, white, it doesn't seem all that different. They're still just... people. It's not like any one of set always has the traits I like in a person, so why should I judge them by any of those?"

Kurt's gaze was unnerving in its intensity, his face devoid of emotion. David looked back down at the ground, now worried that he'd creeped out the person who was quickly turning into his best friend.

"David, that's..." Kurt paused, and David couldn't stop himself from looking up, starting to get sick from worrying. He was about to tell Kurt to forget he'd said anything about it, but something in the blue-green-grey gaze caught his attention and turned him mute. "That's beautiful."

Now David turned scarlet again, and looked down at the floor, thoroughly wishing it would swallow him whole.

"No, seriously. That is really, truly amazing, and I—dammit, I have no idea how to find the right words for that, other than that's not at all what I would have expected from someone at this school. I mean, most of the time it seems like the others are still in the 18th century English aristocratic era, because anyone not from the same tax-bracket is some lower class of person. But what you just said... David, that's so... amazing, and beautiful, and you shouldn't be ashamed of that."

David didn't have a single clue as to what to say to that, so he just looked over at Kurt, more than a little lost.

Kurt smiled gently and bumped his shoulder. "Come on. It's Movie Night."


	4. Chapter 4

The outing at the GAP had seemed to bring some of the Warblers out of theirs silver-spoon-shells, revealing almost _normal_ teenage boys beneath. Kurt had actually managed to convince a few to Friday Night Pizza and video games. It seemed that Thad had a thing for video games. All the boys did, to a certain extent, but Thad had the largest, most extensive collection of consoles and games that anyone had ever seen. Then there was Nick, who had a thing for Guitar Hero and could only be beaten by Blaine, and Jeff... Jeff was so much more of a prankster than he looked at first sight. James had immediately joined in as Jeff's partner in crime, and was unofficially the egger-on of the group, who instigated as much good-natured arguing as he could. If there was ever a pissing match going on between the FNP group, James was sure to have whipped his equipment out of his pants the fastest and most ardently to start it.

The current member who had taken the longest to convince was Wes, unsurprisingly. His serious and professional air seemed to have been permanently ironed into his skin. It was so bad that Kurt sometimes thought that if you poked Wes' cheek, you might end up with starch residue on the end of your finger. David had taken to asking him each and every week to join the other boys, but each and every week Wes had claimed to have much more productive ways to spend his evening than yelling at a TV screen.

It hadn't been until Kurt had (not so) offhandedly said he'd snuck in Red Vines that week that Wes' ears perked forward. Kurt sensed triumph the instant he said it. For although Wesley Hayes-Preston was as blue blooded and rod-assed as any English dowager of the late 18th century, Kurt had a way of finding just what it was that made someone tick, purely through instinct and ruthless will.

"Red Vines, Kurt?" Wes had asked with as much scorn as possible.

"What can I say? Sugar and red dye number 30 are just an irresistible combination." He looked at David and Blaine, who were also strung about Blaine and Nick's dorm, and shrugged. "Well, I guess we tried. Maybe next week."

"Wait. Alright, alright. I suppose I'll try this... Friday Pizza Shebang."

David watched Wes walk out of the room first, then turned to Kurt with huge eyes. "Kurt... how...?"

Kurt shrugged, then grinned. "Red Vines. What _can't_ they do?"

And that is how the greatest scientific discovery of the history of discoveries was discovered: Red Vines... have corrosive effects... on the ass-rod inhabiting Wes' person. Apparently, after 2 bags of the red snack (and an entire liter of Mt. Dew), Wes loses his rigid bearing and becomes...

_Human._

A human who apparently has been far to repressed for the majority of his life, and will actively participate in any competition of the video game variety, will jump on the back of a couch and dramatically retell a story that makes others die laughing, and will actually become a _teenage boy_.

And it was during one of these video game competitions that Kurt was challenged to Call of Duty. Now, one would reasonably come to the conclusion that given Kurt's credit as a diva – well earned, thank you very much – he would find the notion of facing endless hordes of the undead to be daunting and distasteful, at the least.

So when Kurt gleefully massacred not only Nazi zombies, but later his teammates as well when the first got too boring, the silence that echoed in the room was understandable.

"I just got beat... by the Prada Princess..." Thad was staring almost tearfully at his beloved 55" Sony LED, where it showed that he had not only been _beaten_, but _annihilated_ by said Prada Princess.

"No, that can't be right." James took a closer look at the screen, rereading it twice over.

Wes leaned over to whisper in David's ear, "You sure you know this kid all that well?"

David had a massive grin plastered to his face. "Apparently not. Hey, Kurt, man, where did you get those skills?" Formal speech had been dropped long ago in lieu of swearing and general smack talking. Starched collars or not, they were still teenage male homosapiens, and this demanded smack talking during competitions of who's what was bigger.

"I have a step-brother who's only interested in breasts, video games, Glee club and football. Not necessarily in that order. Football has taken precedence over Glee more than once."

"And the breasts?" Jeff waggled his eyebrows.

Kurt looked over his shoulder with one side of his mouth arching upward. "Are categorized with the video games, because that's the only place he's ever seen them."

"Oh!" echoed through the room, David reached over and slapped Kurt on the back, knocking the more delicate Warbler forward.

"My bad." David's hand settled on Kurt's shoulder for a moment to steady him, then went right back to the right side of the controller as Nick demanded a rematch.

And so it happened that the Friday Nighter's, as they referred to themselves jokingly, quickly learned to never play CoD with Kurt, unless they wished to spend the rest of the night humiliated repeatedly. David, however, thought it was hilarious to hear Kurt cackling evilly as he shot teammate after teammate after zombie.

When at last, Nick had claimed his soul was scarred enough for one night and he needed to find his shattered pride once again, everyone laughed and cleaned up the mess, exchanging gibes with sarcastic remarks, quickly followed by many a, "That's what she said," by Jeff.

David looked over at the glow of happiness that made Kurt's skin look almost like moonlight, even in the golden shine of the lamps. It was amazing how one Friday a week had changed Kurt from the awkward, nervous and extremely lonely 'new guy,' to Kurt; Prada Princess, Diva and Mass Murderer of the Virtual Variety.

It wasn't until Kurt called out goodnight and waved a hand behind him that David realized he had been paying far too much attention to the way Kurt's skin glowed, the way his ass looked way too good in silk pajamas and the way his laugh made David smile.

"So, when are you going to inform Kurt that you feel like you're existing in an adolescent fantasy?"

* * *

**_A/N: _**_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried to stop it. But I couldn't. I HAD to put that Dapper Blaine reference in there. _


	5. Chapter 5

David sputtered, the empty plastic cup in his hands dropping and bouncing dully on the carpet. "What?"

Wes and Blaine shared knowing smiles. "You. Tell Kurt. You want. In his. Teenage. Dream. When?"

No response.

"Dude, come on. You haven't checked anyone out like that since before Chelsea," Wes' smile turned into a grin as he waggled his eyebrows.

"I don't even think he checked _her_ like that." Blaine shook his head, eyes closed, mouth pinched and eyebrows lowered, as if those uniquely triangular patches could jump out and say, "Not a chance."

"Guys, you've lost me. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's simple—" Jeff started, and his counterpart jumped in instantly.

"Because it's obvious that you—"

"Have certain feelings toward Kurt—"

"That you're not entirely sure of—"

"Because even though he's gay—"

"And you couldn't care what parts he has—"

"You still can't tell if he's into you—"

"So you don't want to say anything—"

"And make it awkward."

The dynamic duo looked at each other proudly, nodded once, and turned equally devious gazes back to their poor, unsuspecting victim.

David looked around the room, seeing even Thad and Nick had been drawn into the conversation. Wes and Blaine were practically holding pinkies. Well, they weren't quite but they were actually, literally, _physically_ shoulder to shoulder on this, both with their arms crossed and gloating, expectant faces. And Jeff and James... they had _maniacally gleeful _written all over their faces.

"There's nothing like that between us. We're just friends."

"Oh, Christ, we've heard that one before!" Thad threw his hands up and thunked his head onto the back of the couch.

"What do you mean?" David was thoroughly confused now.

"Kurt. Blaine. Remember? Sexual tension strung out so tight Blaine could have strummed a flamenco piece on it?" Nick looked accusingly at the Warbler in question, who apparently was a little slow. The proverbial light came ridiculously close to _literally_ turning on above his head, which swung around so fast it popped, with an indignant, "Hey!" sputtering out of him.

"Well, it's true."

"Is not!"

"Blaine, just cause you don't want to admit it, doesn't mean it's not true. And with the rest of us as witnesses, we will go to our graves swearing that although your intention wasn't to lead him on, you were still having eye sex all over the Warbler Hall. _Publicly_."

"Kinky," Jeff quipped, only to be skewered on the lead singer's hazel gaze.

"Alright. I may have... been a little suggestive, but I didn't _actually_ think it would go anywhere."

Wes smiled, giving in with a nudge of his shoulder. The affectionate action had infiltrated everyone in the group, contagious as the addiction for Kurt's magic cookies. "It's alright. No one blames you. Everyone's had at least one or two thoughts about our countertenor diva. Even David. Although it's obvious he's had _several_ thoughts."

With the conversation turned back to him, David put his hands up. "Don't look at me! I have not been thinking about-"

"What? Getting into his skin tight jeans?" James waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"No! I'm not-"

"Please. Do _not_ insult our intelligence by finishing that sentence. Because either you were going to say you're not on his team, or you're not interested in getting into those obviously-ass-perfecting-pants. And while you may not play for his team, you definitely aren't the team going up against him, either. And please. Even the straight ones want into his pants." James arched a brow at Wes in particular, being the unsaid 'straightest' out of them all, daring him to deny it.

Wes looked over at James, seeming about ready to argue, then shrugged.

"Exactly." The latter mentioned boy looked smug. The truth was so undeniable that not even Wesley Hayes-Preston could argue with it.

David looked around, saw the immovable stares he was up against, then sighed and dropped onto the couch. "Not one word to him. Got it?" Enthusiastic nods. "Fine. Yes, I suppose I play for his team in part. And yes, I like him. Happy now? Should we continue with this conversation—which, by the way, should be happening at a sleepover inhabited by 13-year-old _girls_."

Wes shrugged, and sat down on one side of David, while Blaine took up the other. Wes put his hand comfortingly on David's shoulder, and Blaine patted his knee understandingly.

"David. We've known this for weeks. We just weren't sure until you finally started to check out his ass."

"... it's not my fault. It was on prominent display."

"Oh, flamingly. Did you see when he bent over-"

"Jeff!"

The room echoed with all of the protests, along with the cackle that accompanied them.


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: _**_Please, someone, help me. I don't know what's going on! My mind and hands have overtaken the rest of my body and I _can't. stop. writing. _D: T.T Help meeeee! My muse is on a Kavid streak and is flying around in my brain on a broomstick, cackling and saying, "You'll never get away from me, my pretty. You and your little Kavid, too!" And then there's SpiderMonkey!Blaine and SoNotAMorningPerson!David, and !Wes cramming my brain. Dear lord, what have I started? I have midterms this week! I'm going to FAIIIIIIL like the picture of that freaky dude with his head turned up so far his eyes are straining downwards. You know what I'm talking about. The one from cpcoulter's Dalton that usually says _**LOGAN**_ at the bottom. Yes, that one! Well, now it's saying _**I FAILED MIDTERMS** _and I'm DOOMED I tell you. _**DOOMED**. _But since I'm _**DOOMED **_anyway, I might as well enjoy my rampaging brain that has been hijacked by my muse. So, enjoy the criminal mischief of my _**DOOMED**_ creativity while I mourn the loss of my future massage license.  
_

_

* * *

_

"Okay, Kurt. Can I ask you something? Because we've always been completely honest with each other." Blaine sat down opposite of Kurt, who was the earliest of the Friday Nighter's to rise.

Those few sentences were enough to make Kurt pause from raising his cup of coffee. Translated: so alarming that nuclear sirens were blaring in his mind, and his stomach was abandoning ship. This was the talk that Kurt had given Blaine when he had admitted how he felt. So Blaine... starting a conversation... with this... He needed more coffee before they went into this.

"Listen, Blaine, I don't mean to sound rude, but I'd really prefer to not do anything like this until after I've had my coffee, and—"

"What are your feelings towards David?"

Whoa. _Not_ where his brain had been headed. He couldn't hide the sigh of relief, as much of a douchewaffle as that made him. He looked up to see a sardonic grin twisting Blaine's dapper face.

"Do I need to apologize again for being a total ass?" he asked tentatively.

Kurt chuckled, and shook his head. His morning had brightened up considerably now. "No, Blaine, you do not need to apologize. And you weren't a total ass," he added with a head tilting forward and a small smile.

Blaine had to smile widely in response. "Just a partial ass." A shrug met his words, and he chuckled. "Got it. It'll be on my tombstone, 'He was a partial ass.' Lovely. I like it. Patti Lapone would approve, I'm sure. Anyway, back to what I really wanted to talk to you about. Is there anything going on between you and David? Anything... more than friendly?"

Kurt looked at him for a long moment, his face devoid of all telling emotion. "Why do you want to know, and why is it so important that you ask my first thing in the morning, before I've finished my first cup of life?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Because you're my friend, and I want you to be happy. I realize, given my past asshattery, that might sound doubtful, but seeing you and David together all the time... well... call me a matchmaker."

"Is this like when Jeff and James were trying to lock us in the music closet? Because matchmaking usually involves some sort of scheming, and however well-intended it is, it's still scheming."

"Nonono," Blaine leaned forwards, hands extended in a gesture of peace. "I'm honestly just trying to see what's going on. I mean... David's not exactly straight... and you're less straight than a circle. Just saying!" Blaine defended himself when Kurt started to assume his prize _bitch, you did _not_ just say that_ face. "And... well... you two have really good chemistry."

Kurt sighed, and rubbed at his head. "Blaine. I'm pretty sure you of all people should understand this by now. Just because two not-straight men are good friends, friends who get along very well together, does _not_ mean that those two not-straight friends are looking to get into the others' pants. Capiche?"

Blaine bit his bottom lip, wanting to push it, but knowing that Kurt would just turn bitchy in record time if he tried to force Kurt to tell him something he didn't want to. Or, wait, no. Now that he thought about it, Kurt would just avoid the subject, or stop speaking altogether until the subject was changed. Funny, how they'd been friends for months now, and yet Blaine felt like he hadn't really gotten to know him that well. Which was... kind of sad. And showed him something about himself that he didn't like at all.

Well, he would just have to change that. He would set Kurt and David up, and then they could be the Three Musketeers, with David and Kurt sort of as one musketeer... Davurt. Or... Kavird? Durvid? Kavid? Kavid! That sounded nice. So it would be the Three Musketeers, Blaine, Wes and Kavid.

The astute, ridiculously intelligent part of Blaine's brain kicked in, and he started thinking about the different ways David and Kurt would be good together. Kurt was fast-paced, full of energy and hopes and dreams and more courage than any one person should have. David was his opposite, his complimentary inverse; laid-back, easy-going and focused on one direction at a time, with depthless patience. Kurt was an early bird, chipper as sunshine in the morning, while David was the creature of darkness when woken up five minutes before his alarm went off. Kurt's cheerfulness would seep into David and then Blaine wouldn't wake up to growling noises from horror movies coming from the other side of the room!

And in some aspects, they would be so similar that it could cement them. Seriously. Blaine started getting more excited as his brain took a self-guided tour into Kavid Kingdom. They were so loyal, so warm and affectionate, it would likely cause Wes and Blaine to need fillings from the sweetness of the rainbows they would puke around the pair. Or... maybe not quite that, but they would be so cute, with their steadfast hearts and their witty humor. They were both so matched in their ideals of what made a healthy partner, it was amazing no one had seen it yet.

Kurt was sparkles and glitter and shine, and David was the steady, anchoring paper and glue that held things together. And together they would be so amazing and cute that –

"-aine? Blaine, can you hear me? Anybody in there? Hellooooooo?" Kurt was snapping in front of Blaine's face, moving his head from side to side as if he could view different angles into Blaine's head in an attempt to find anyone home.

"Yeah, sorry. My mind just went off to Warblerland. I'm sorry, were you saying something?" He made an obvious effort to center himself on what Kurt was saying this time, paying the utmost attention.

"Nevermind." Kurt shook his head, smiling.

"You know, Kurt, I don't want to be pushy, but I honestly think that maybe if you two gave it a shot... you'd be... pleasantly surprised."

"All of the past times I've thought about 'giving it a shot,' Blaine, have not ended up well. First, I single-mindedly pursue a straight man, then I briefly think about a male who _could_ have been gay, but turns out to just be blond, and then—"

"And then I come in." Blaine sighed. "Kurt, I am so—"

"Don't even finish that, Anderson. It's water under the bridge. I'm just saying that my previous records have not turned out in my favor, so I believe it's understandable if I'm hesitant to just jump in again."

Blaine's eyes sharpened, but he didn't say anything other than to smile and wish Kurt good luck on his midterms.

_Hesitant_.

Not uninterested, or adverse, like someone as willful (coughcoughstubborn) would have no problem saying when they meant it, but _hesitant_.

Meaning the ball would have to be David's to move first.

Blaine smiled slowly. It was time to team up with Wes and do some heavy scheming—planning. Heavy planning. Yes. That.

The diabolical, theatrical laugh that echoed in the back of his mind meant nothing whatsoever.


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N: _**_In case you wish to have an easy laugh, you can go to my profile, find the link that very clearly states **DOOM Troll** I've put up, and chuckle at my impending doom. :D That is all._

_

* * *

_

David looked at the two demon spawns posing as adolescent males in front of him. "That's not just a bad idea, but a nominee for the Guinness Book of World Records of Bad Ideas."

"It's a great idea!"

"Not happening." He stood, gathered his books, and made the most dignified attempt at fleeing he could manage.

Which wasn't much, seeing as how aforementioned demon spawns followed his heels like small terriers, ready to bite into him at any moment.

"David, come on. It's a fantastic plan."

"It's too soon," he threw over his shoulder as he walked aimlessly, simply trying to out-walk them, since running would be too obvious.

"You've practically been living together since Valentine's Day. Next excuse." Wes was smug. David didn't have to look back to see that smug grin that was glued to Asian Demon Spawn's face.

"He's not ready for it."

"Well, it's not like you're the type to jump into sex anyway."

David stopped so fast that Asian Demon Spawn and Hobbit Demon Spawn thumped solidly into his back. He spun around, looking from one face to the next, mouth gaping open, closing, opening against, but he could only sputter.

"Oh, look, you made him blush. That's so cute!" Blaine leaned his head against Wes' shoulder, a smile beaming at how adorable he found his poor victim.

Who was _so_ not going there with these two.

Without a word, said victim spun, continued walking, and rubbed at his forehead, trying to remember how he had gotten into this mess to begin with. He had just wanted to study, honestly. Kurt had been called for emergency-rainbow-care-bear-time with New Direction's lead singer, apologizing repeatedly and sincerely to David that he would have to miss out on their usual couple of hours they spent studying.

Not that it was formally _their_ couple of hours, or anything. It was strictly for schoolwork. After all, Kurt's grades were improving due to David's ability to explain the complex formulas of math, along with the complex amalgamation that was history, and make it stick in Kurt's brain. Kurt's teachers were thrilled, Kurt's parents were thrilled, David was thrilled—that wasn't said. Forget that.

David had just smiled and asked if Kurt needed a ride, but after Kurt was gone, the room seemed too quiet. Even when Kurt was reading silently, he still made noise. Or perhaps it was just that David could almost hear him thinking, with that constant buzz as the pale boy sorted new information for his advanced physics and chemistry courses at an astonishing rate. (Kurt had once told David that part of the reason he chose to transfer to Dalton was because McKinley hadn't challenged him, lacking any advanced courses, and here there were so many that he could pick and choose that he had heard college doors open up, with choirs from Harvard, Yale, Oxford singing in eight piece harmony with each new entrance.)

But then, with Kurt gone, the room had seemed dimmer, less vibrant, and so eerily quiet and still that David had meandered to the commons, plunked down among the sounds of pages turning and pencils tapping, and lost himself in the great inventions of the last five centuries.

That is, until two demons had crawled out from hell and descended—ascended?—upon the innocent student with manic intensity that rivaled Kurt on a 75% off sale of all Marc Jacobs. It was _that_ frightening.

So here David was, trying to avoid conversing with two obviously _insane_ adolescent males while they followed him with a tenacity that bordered on stalking. "Go away. I have studying to do."

"David, your GPA is the highest in the school by a long shot. Taking a half an hour to listen and agree to what we have to say will not affect that in the least." Wes was ever persistent and straightforward. Dammit.

"This would take more than a half hour. And even if it didn't, I'd still be closed to discussing it. Because it's terrible."

"It's just a song!"

David glared at Hobbit Demon Spawn over his shoulder. "You of all people should know what songs mean to Kurt, Blaine."

He told himself not to feel guilty at the wince, but this proved impossible.

"I get that I messed up. I get it. And I've apologized to everyone-all the Warblers, to you, Kurt. Especially Kurt. I've apologized so much, Kurt told me to shut my mouth and eat my breakfast yesterday. So can we please move on and forget that I was idiot? Please?"

David had to sigh and relent. "Yeah, alright, man."

"Thank you." Blaine let out a deep breath. "Now, let's get back to the real subject at hand."

"I'm still not singing."

"Listen, David. After all of his past screw-ups with guys, he's not going to make the first move. So you'll have to if you want any chance with him."

"We're just friends, okay?"

"'Just friends' do not want into each other's pants." David couldn't help but look back to see Wes arching one brow in a very... Wes-like manner.

"We don't—wait, what?" It clicked in that they hadn't singled him out in that sentence.

"Dude, you don't seriously think you're alone in your man-crush...right?" Blaine looked from David to Wes, Wes to David... back to Wes... his face smothered with horror. "He _actually _thinks he's all by himself! Unbelievable!"

"Leave me alone." David sulked—sulked—and walked away.

"Aww, David, don't be like that! It's not really your fault! He's worried that you'll find out, so of course he'd try to hide it around you!"

The tallest Musketeer/Warbler sighed, stopped, and turned around for what he _swore_ would be the final time. "Blaine. Wes. I realize you're my partners in crime, my dynamic duo in disaster, the Goofy and Donald to my Mickey—"

"Hey! I'm Mickey!" Blaine cried in outrage.

David arched a brow, but continued on as if he hadn't heard anything. "I also realize that you want to see me happy, and I get that you think setting me up with Kurt would turn the world puppies and rainbows around here. But I honestly can't handle you two turning into Jeff and James. Kurt can't handle you turning into Jeff and James._ Jeff_ and _James_ can't handle you turning into Jeff and James!" He took a deep breath. "So thank you. I really do appreciate it. But I'm not singing a song from _Rent_, of all things, during _Warblers_, to try to catch his attention."

The hell-pair looked a him for a long time, as if trying to decide if he was _actually_ serious or not. When the set position of his jaw finally got through to them that he was truly, honestly, completely serious, Blaine sighed first and looked at Wes.

"Well, Wesley, we have to concede this one. He's got his _don't mess with me or I will spin-kick you into next week_ look." He turned to David. "Fine. You win._ This_ time."

David grinned and patted Blaine's shoulder. "You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel any better."

The pair watched David walk down the hallway, partially waiting for him to realize he was going the wrong way to get to their dorm, and partially waiting for him to get out of earshot.

"Are we really tabling this?" Wed asked.

Blaine snorted. "Hell no. Now let's go. We have work to do, people to convince, and about a dozen or so rolls of confetti ribbon to order. Oh, and I heard that there's thing called a confetti cannon, and then we have to get a..."


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N: _**_I apologize right now for any mistakes! I realize that while David might only be about 3 or 4 inches taller than Kurt, I made him a little bit more so in here, by a few inches, just because he just has that _**presence**_ of being so much taller. I don't know, he just seems like it in my mind. Anyone else? Maybe it's because he's so confident and composed, and Kurt's so feminine. Or there could be crack in my sprite and I haven't figured it out yet. O.e_

_ALSO! During _**WIGYA**_ David's character is singing that REALLY low part, during that, "Ain't you got some photographs" line, so I made him a bass. Okay, that was only part of the reason. First and foremost, I love basses. And Kurt, having excellent judgment, therefore loves this bass as well. ;) So, with all that being said, enjoy!_

_Remember: I don't own Glee. I just fantasize stories about its characters when I should be studying. :D_

_

* * *

_

Kurt had been getting funny looks all day. Sometimes, when they thought he couldn't see, he would see them chuckling to themselves, or winking to each other. Now, normally he'd just dismiss it as teenage boys... being teenage boys.

And since he couldn't think of any reason that today would be any different-and he had _seriously_ wracked his brain for a reason-he dismissed it as teenage boys...being teenage boys.

David, however, had noticed. And he just _knew_ something was going to happen. More specifically, something he wasn't going to like. Even more specifically, something he wasn't going to like, instigated by one Blaine Anderson with the aid of Wesley Hayes-Preston.

He was going to _kill_ them.

When International Baccalaureate History 7-8 had finished, he very nearly stomped to Warbler Hall. As it was, he exuded such a foul aura that even the stuffiest of Dalton's stuffy students knew instinctively to stay away.

"What have you done?" he demanded the minute he entered the large room.

Blaine demonstrated his remarkable ability to be oblivious. The idiot _smiled_ at David-who was about an inch away from strangling him.

"David! Perfect timing! We've got something totally awesome planned for today!"

"And what," David ground out with as much civility as he could muster (which wasn't much at the moment, gentleman or not), "would that be?"

"Confetti!"

Blink.

Two blinks.

"What?"

The shorter tenor grinned. "Confetti! Since the GAP Attack worked so well in bringing everyone out of their shells and bringing everyone closer together, Wes, Thad and I thought it'd be a fantastic idea to find another sort of thing to do that again. I mean, look at everyone!" He gestured with rambunctious energy at the people around them, and David saw something he never had before.

There wasn't the starched, separated look that usually graced the Hall. Instead, the entire group was talking animatedly, although in quiet, conspiring voices. There was emotion swimming in the room-excited, mischievous-and David heard someone laugh. Others joined. It was a 180 from the last month's meetings, where the council had been the only ones to talk, and everyone had sat around silently while waiting for the meeting to begin.

"Confetti did all of this?"

"Not yet. This is just the _thought_ of confetti. Who's a genius?" Blaine grinned expectantly.

"Alright, I'll give you credit for this. But if anyone ends up suffocating because it gets wrapped around their neck-"

"Jeez. Stop worrying, Dad. Nothing bad is going to happen because of _confetti_. I hear it's pretty breakable stuff."

David sighed, pinched his nose, but had to smile. "Okay. Let's get this mad house over with."

When he turned his back to step up to the head table, his eyes caught on a pair of brilliant blue-green-grey.

'What's going on?' Kurt mouthed.

David shrugged. 'Confetti.'

'Confe-what?' Kurt looked at him in a very confused manner.

'Con-fe-teeee.' David grinned, watching it sink in.

'Why?'

David shrugged again. What is all the confetti about? David doesn't know. Oh, he knew what Blaine had _said_ it was for. But really? Seriously? David knew that face. Whatever the point was, it was _not_ just about team-building.

As David sat down, he forced himself to look around the room, no matter how magnetic Kurt's eyes seemed to be at that moment. So while Wes called everyone to attention, David's brilliant brain studied all of his fellow Warblers. But Blaine-or Wes-had warned them that he was suspicious. Their faces held only polite interest.

Bastards all deserved golden globes for the superb acting.

David sighed, sat back, and listened.

"-ow, because of our recent success, we've decided to test out another scenario that may help to make our group more unified. So, as a symbol of each individual combining to create one united front, each of you will take on roll of confetti and become part of the weave."

"Then what?" Jeff and James looked at each other, a plan glinting in their eyes.

"Then you will throw your roll over the chandelier _very_ carefully. We have already had the glass taken out because we don't want people getting hurt, but even so, try to be gentle."

"And _then_," The Twisted Twins repeated, leaning forward so that they were on the edge of their seats.

"Then... run. That's not that hard to understand." Thad looked at the pair with a sarcastic grin.

"But... but... what happened to refined and cultured?" Kurt looked flabbergasted that all of these prep-school millionaire's sons would be considering the undignified action of _running_ with _confetti_.

"We have plenty of that. What we don't have, is something you opened our eyes to not too long ago."

"Taste in clothing departments?" He arched a brow at the council, and David turned his head to the side and down, so that the countertenor couldn't see him smile at the jibe.

"Spontaneity. Personality. Fun. As a whole, that is. We hadn't quite realized that in the effort to become just one single voice, the character and charisma was lost."

Kurt gaped, mouth opening comically wide before Jeff reached over and shut it for him.  
"Okay. Well, then, what are we waiting for?" He smiled widely. "But I get the purple one."

Wes rolled his eyes, then smiled and looked around the room expectantly. "Well... the point of this exercise is to be original, spontaneous. What are you all waiting for? Dig in!"

In less than a second it was total. complete. Chaos.

Jeff and James had launched themselves at the pile of plastic-coated multi-colored ribbon before Wed had even finished speaking. Kurt had _squealed_ with childish glee and tossed himself into the fray, and then all hell had descended as the rest of the Warblers had, in many different notes, roared and jumped towards the center as well.

David had a split second to watch in horrified awe as Wes flung himself over the table. Grinning, David jumped onto the table and yelled as loudly as he could-which was quite loud, considering his size and lung capacity, "Incoming!"

Boys scattered, knowing exactly what came next. David thought he heard a full-bodied, throat laugh that could only have come from one person, but he couldn't be sure, due to the force with which he flipped himself into the center of the room. He snagged the first color that snagged his eye and ran as fear wore off and the last wave of boys swooped in for the kill.

Kurt was prancing around as others ran with such insane energy that David wondered who had given them crack.

At that moment, David happened to just be turning from ripping the ribbon's package open when he suddenly found himself being shoved from behind by someone. There was such insanity as boys ran with blue, green, red, orange, blue again, red again, gold, white—for the dramatic Blaine—and black—for the dark side of Wes' mind, of course—that David had no idea who was even around him at that moment. But all of the sudden he was getting bumped, knocked, collided, every imaginable synonym that was a nicer version of "shoved" towards the center, all the while screaming laughter and war sounds echoed in his ears. He couldn't even get enough breath to protest, he was laughing so hard at the sheer amount of _fun_ that was running around like some uncivilized Neanderthal.

Until someone—he could have _sworn_ that was Wes' hair—all but _fell_ onto David's back, sending him stumbling forward.

At the same time he saw someone 'bump' into Kurt a little too roughly, sending the much lighter Warbler flying. David watched with a slow-motion horror face as he realized Kurt was about to fall face-first onto the floor, with a dozen other screaming adolescent males rampaging about with heavy, stomping feet and not a single one looking down towards the ground.

David's instincts kicked in and he hurled himself forward desperately, catching the smaller boy and clutching him close to his much larger body to create a safe haven amidst the chaos.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Am I dead?" Kurt was breathing too fast, his face buried in David's shirt, peaking between the blazer's lapels.

David took a deep, steadying breath, and released it with a small chuckle with forced nonchalance. "No, Kurt. You're not dead. I don't think even hell has this much insanity in it."

"Hmm. You may be right." Kurt seemed to follow David's lead and slowed his breathing, trying for the calm attitude David exuded, but he didn't let up his death grip on David's jacket on bit.

David bent his head so that he didn't have to shout over everyone else. "Too close?"

"Oh, yes. The moment I started to hit the deck I had this image of the Lion King, and Mufasa getting trampled in the stampede. Only Mufasa died with more dignity. He at least got trampled by an entire herd of whatever-they-were during an evil plot to kill him. I was about to be stepped on to death by a bunch of hormonal teenage males. Joy."

David had to chuckle, but he heard the tremor in the countertenor's voice, and held him tighter. To make him feel more secure, you know? Stop your thoughts. It wasn't like that.

… much.

"Hey, guys, stop!" Blaine's voice could be heard over the hurricane-force-noise of a dozen mindless males. The noise came to a sudden stop at his tone, however. Still carrying his white streamer, he reached through the throng of blue and red blazers to look at David's face more carefully. "What happened?"

David's genius mind registered a split second of the lead Warbler's face and felt fury start to boil in the pit of his stomach. Now, David Johnson was usually described as 'easy-going,' 'level-headed,' and 'has a long fuse.' But it had been lit the moment he had seen the terror on Kurt's face as he started to fall towards the floor.

"Like you don't know, you bastard."

Blaine, and the rest of the Warblers, were very, very, _very_ much taken aback. Not only by David swearing, but by the venom behind it.

"Are you happy now? Have you got your little kicks and giggles that your strategy worked? Cause yes, Kurt and I are right here, in the smack dab middle of the group, together, and I'm sure you're just rolling with victory right now—"

"David, I didn't mean—"

"What, Blaine? For Kurt to think he was about to be trampled to death? Because while you were planning this entire strategy, did you ever think about what would happen if just a _few_ of the guys forgot the plan? How many were staring straight up, watching the ribbons tangle, or straight ahead, grinning at each other and making sure not to bump into anyone? How many were looking _down_, Blaine?"

Blaine was silent, looking around, his gaze going back along his memory to search the faces. The others looked around at each other again, looking uneasy, guilty.

"Yeah. That's what I thought? How easy would it have been for just a few of you to not see someone on the floor? Not know until afterwards that there was someone on the ground who, in those couple of seconds, was completely defenseless to someone stepping on something that could have been broken, shattered, or burst?" His use of imagery made a few of them turn green, and Blaine looked absolutely sick now. He looked at Wes, and the two shared a horrified, helpless look. "So the next time you want to play matchmaker, Blaine, _don't_." His voice was so cold at that moment, and he was so angry, that everyone in the room looked away.

Without another word, he walked a silent Kurt out of the room. Neither spoke until David had opened the door to Kurt's dorm, closed it, and sat Kurt down. With a simple, "Stay here," he opened the door once more and closed it behind him, leaving Kurt alone.

The countertenor breathed, blinked, and looked around the white walls, walls that should have been like his bedroom, given their same color, but this didn't feel comforting. This felt barren, cold, and too still. His mind kept replaying that one moment when he had lost his balance and realized he was about to fall under the near-violent disorder of overly-mobile teenagers. He had seen all of them nearly crashing into each other, stepping to the side without looking to avoid being hit, and had known that in seconds, someone could snap his leg, or arm, and something terrible was going to happen. In that split fraction of time he had looked up to see David's face dawn with horror and the bunching of his muscles as he had _launched_ himself at Kurt, like some cheesy action movie where the hero saves the girl just in the knick of time.

Kurt remembered that when he had been about six, his dad had taken him to a parade. He had been on Burt's shoulders for most of it, but after a while of Kurt screaming and waving like a proud prom queen, Burt had probably been too sore to continue, and so he had asked Kurt if he wanted an ice cream cone. Kurt had debated the pros and cons of such a messy treat, but in the end eagerly agreed to the sugary treat. His dad had led him away from their safe spot and into the crowd, holding onto Kurt's hand tightly. But a freak squall had come in from the sea, and all of the sudden rain was _pounding_ onto the street, hail was dropping from the sky, and everyone was screaming, and people were bumping into other people in their haste to escape the falling ice. And Kurt remembered this giant man had come out of nowhere, bumping into his dad hard enough to knock his hand from Kurt's, and suddenly six-year-old Kurt was alone in the rain and hail, while people were coming at him from all sides, and he couldn't find his dad.

It was a memory Kurt had completely forgotten about, until now. With the white walls staring at him, he remembered the absolute _terror_ he had felt for three eternal minutes until his dad had found him. Now that he thought about it, Burt must have had some sort of super-dad-senses, to find him in the chaos that fast. But seeing it through a six-year-old's eyes, three minutes was an eternity of legs coming at him, shoes, high heels, boots, everyone, everywhere.

Kurt brought his legs up, wrapped his arms around them, and held tight. He wished he could just shove the memory back, but he couldn't. It was melodramatic, and entirely beneath him, but with his latest encounter with frenzied sprinting around, the fear of being trampled had resurged with a vengeance, sending him into _shock_, of all things. His mind recognized the symptoms—the blue in the beds of his nails (and he could bet his lips), the dizziness, the chest pain, not being able to get enough breath—but at the moment, the logical, intellectual side of him didn't seem to be much of a deterrent to his body's automatic response.

The door opened and closed, but at the moment Kurt was trying not to become the ridiculous damsel in distress and pull that fainting BS, so he didn't exactly greet the incomer with much enthusiasm. As it was, broad hands smoothed over his back, with just the right amount of pressure, and a low voice crooned into his ear.

"You're okay now, Kurt. Just breathe. Can you try to take a deep breath?" The hands were now chaffing his own hands. He shook his head, being almost 100% positive that he could _not_ try to take a deep breath, as it seemed concentrated on being as fast and shallow as possible.

Suddenly the hands were gone, only to be found once again on his shoes. Then his shoes were gone, and the hands were tugging at his arms. Looking up dizzily, his eyes beheld David kneeling in front of him, tugging his legs down so he could reach Kurt's blazer. Looking down now, he realized that David was unbuttoning his jacket. Somewhere, in the back of Kurt's mind, he was debating between laughing and being horrified. David hadn't even bought him dinner. They hadn't even _kissed_, and David was stripping off his blazer and tossing it to the floor.

But then the darker boy was lifting Kurt, and that wasn't so bad, and then he was placing Kurt beneath the covers, and then he was grabbing one of Kurt's pillows to put under his legs—wait, under his legs? Why? But his mind didn't have time to dwell on it, as David pulled the blankets up to Kurt's chin and then leaned over the bed, his face a sea of concern and comforting at the same time.

"Do you want me to leave you alone for a little while to get some sleep?" he was asking softly.  
Kurt shook his head vehemently. David just smiled, and climbed under the covers next to the pale boy, all the while muttering something like "." Or something. Kurt couldn't tell. Not like he was really paying attention, because all of the sudden there was all this warmth beneath the blankets, and Kurt turned instinctively towards it and let his head fall heavily onto the larger boy's chest, thinking something like, "." Or something.

David, on the other hand, was _acutely_ aware of _everything_ going on. Namely the fact that he was in between Kurt's sheets... on Kurt's bed... with Kurt turning and Kurt placing his head on David's chest and Kurt finally breathing deeply and _Kurt, Kurt, Kurt_...

Holy fuck, he was going to rip Blaine and Wes into shreds. Tear them limb from limb. Because this. was. _hell._

Kurt was in shock. David got that. That's why he had dashed out of the room after promptly sitting a swaying Kurt down on his bed. The five seconds it had taken for David to run all the way down the hall to his room was only to grab an extra blanket and a bottle of sprite for Kurt to drink later. For now, Kurt needed to be warm, his feet needed to be propped up so his blood pressure could return to normal, and David needed to get the shock-y Warbler out of his jacket. It was restrictive clothing, alright! That's not good for people in shock. Thank god Kurt wasn't wearing his skinny jeans...

_So not going there_, David groaned silently and shut his mind off. He concentrated on rubbing Kurt's shoulders, on making soothing strokes on his back, on humming softly. He wasn't sure exactly what it was until he got to the refrain, still humming. It was Teenage Dream, the first time David had seen Kurt. Jesus. He was worse than Blaine. And that was saying something.

"Why is it that every time something big happens in my life, Katy Perry is now the theme song artist behind it?" came a soft voice.

He chuckled, looking down. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Katy Perry is becoming my subliminal Jiminy Cricket."

"You _do_ sort of resemble Pinocchio—"

"If you finish that sentence, David Johnson, I will dismember you."

David was wisely silent. Kurt was a little too close to his... member... to take the threat lightly. "That aside, why is Katy Perry your subliminal shoulder singer?"

"_I Kissed a Girl, Teenage Dream, _and while it may not be an official Kurt Hummel Soundtrack number, _Firework_."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You kissed a girl?"

"I was trying to play straight for my dad."

"Ah." David nodded once, getting it. "How did that go?"

"Butch!Kurt is something I do not wish brought up. End of discussion."

_Oh, I so don't think so, _David grinned in thought, but let it slide for right now. "Alright then. Everything else is understandable." He was silent for a long moment, knowing that since Kurt was now warmed up, his blood pressure had returned, and oxygen was now at healthy levels, he should probably go and let Kurt sleep off the stress, but he couldn't. Whether things were moving too fast or not, he didn't want to move from this spot, with Kurt's hand clutching his blazer once again, his head on David's chest and the quiet ease that seemed to have wrapped around the pair.

"I think it was a really cute thought," Kurt murmured out of nowhere.

"What was?"

"Blaine's plan."

David's eyes turned frosty. "It was monumentally stupid. So many things could have gone wrong. I _told_ him that—"

"You worry to much."

David's jaw slacked for a moment, before closing and ticking. "If today has proven _anything, _it's that I worry the right amount."

"It's proven that you have fantastic reflexes. And a really, really, _really_ warm body temperature." The sideways remark did it's trick—it threw David off-kilter enough to keep him silent for a moment so Kurt could speak without having to argue. "Blaine's intentions were really good, David. Whether they were misguided or not, I don't know. But he thought he was doing something that would make everyone involved happy in the long run. And, admittedly, he's not quite as smart as you are. He's still a genius, he's just not as near-psychic intelligent, and he can sometimes be a little... _selective_ in what he sees becoming of his plans. So there was no way that Matchmaker!Blaine could have guessed that something like this would happen. He's not a bad guy, David. He wouldn't have risked anyone if he'd thought anything could happen."

"So you're saying that just because he was absent-minded in his scheming and didn't intend any harm, I shouldn't be mad?"

Kurt chuckled.

David was _furious_, and Kurt—who had damn near been _trampled—_was _chuckling. _At him. The world was _fucking. nuts. _

_ "_I never said you shouldn't be mad. Go ahead and be mad. If I were in your shoes, I'd be plenty mad. It's just that... he honestly was just trying to make someone happy. That kind of makes him like every puppy on the planet."

David pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the twitching of his lips that wanted to make him smile. It wasn't going to work. He was angry—no, _furious, _dammit. He wasn't just going to let it drop that easily.

"David," Kurt sighed, and the boy in question's complete focus was back on the small, pale boy next to him.

"Yes, endearing spy?"

"You saved me, Blaine apologized, and I'm pretty sure there will be some sort of performance along the lines of _Apologize_ coming up tomorrow. So just let it go. Okay?"

David thumped the back of his skull against the headboard. He really, _really_ didn't want to. He wanted to be so mad at Blaine for putting Kurt—and others—in danger like that. But Kurt was now lifting his head and using the full power of his gaze on David. And even though the smaller boy had no idea of the sort of pull he had over David's decisions, David knew and felt it, and he swore once, vehemently, and then let out a long breath. "Alright, alright." His gaze met Kurt's and held for a long moment before he smiled. "I'll forgive the Evil Hobbit after he apologizes, okay? Just let me have a little while to stew in righteous fury, okay?"

The countertenor chuckled, and turned his head to the side again so that he could lay his cheek on the bass's chest.

Kurt jolted upright, seeming to realize all of a sudden what exactly it was that he was doing.

"I—I didn't mean to—I was just—I suppose you want your torso back?" Kurt finished, flushing brilliant red and looking so embarrassed it made David laugh.

"It's not a big deal, Kurt." He strove to put his friend—just a friend?—at ease. "I know how affectionate you are. Don't worry."

Kurt looked confused. "How do you know how affectionate I am? I've never been like that around here."

"When Mercedes drove here, remember? Right after you transferred, and she finally got over her issue with it." Kurt made a(n absolutely, positively, undeniably adorable) O with his mouth.

"You saw that?"

David grinned. "If by 'that' you mean the shrieking that brought all three of our group to the window to see you try to _tackle_ Mercedes and then nuz—"

"_Yeeeeessss_, that. Okay. So you did see. Well, yes. That's me. With my girl. With any of my girls. With anyone outside of this school, really."

David winced. "Yeah, I suppose a lot of them would be surprised if you did that to them. But... you don't have to worry about anyone... judging you... here." He chose his words carefully. "They might not seem like it, but they're starting to open up, Kurt. If you ever... you know... _dated_... anyone from here, they'd be fine with it. Shocked at first, but nothing more. I mean, did you see their faces today? They looked like someone had hopped them up on sugar and then set them loose in a petting zoo."

Kurt laughed. "Yeah. That's a nice way to put it. I was going to say someone put vodka in their hot chocolate and sent them to the Playboy mansion, but that works as well."

This brought out a startled laugh. "Frat boys, Kurt? Seriously?"

"Well, some of them are stuffy enough, most of the time. So... if the frat-hat fits..." Kurt grew silent, then looked at David with an intent, unreadable gaze. "Do you really think they're accepting enough to be okay. If I ever did happen to... have a boyfriend... you know."

David held his stare equally, not entirely sure what was going on behind someone's eyes, for once, but his gut told him this was important. "Yeah. I do. I think they'd tease you—and him—about it mercilessly, elbow you, ruffle your hair—"

"Oh, _hell_ no—"

"And do the same thing they do when anyone else gets a new date."

Now Kurt was silent once more, for so long David wondered if he'd said the right thing. It was the truth, but maybe that wasn't quite as reassuring as Kurt had been looking for.

"Thank you."

David smiled, and nudged Kurt with his shoulder in that affectionate way Kurt had rubbed into them all. "No problem. You'd be surprised at how many friends you have here, even if not all of them are exactly the outwardly-expressing type. You're one of us now, Kurt. You're a Warbler, and we're pretty protective of our Warblers."

Kurt looked down at the sheets, blushing with the happiness wanting to burst through him. Maybe there was a chance of fashion-restricting Dalton being not-so-bad after all.

(The fact that a certain handsome, dark-skinned, ridiculously intelligent, mature, and all around wonderful Warbler happened to go there didn't happen to make it not-so-bad in the least.)

(Not at all.)


	9. Chapter 9

The next day came with an unusual amount of attentiveness from Kurt's fellow Warblers. Apparently, they had all had time to think about the plan last night, and suddenly it didn't seem so great. So over the course of the day, Kurt was on the receiving end of so many questions like, "How are you doing," "Are you feeling okay," and other sentiments, that he was going to go diva and shove the next question down someone's throat.

Except the next question came from Wes. Which, needless to say, was shocking enough that Kurt's throat-shoving-vengeance was postponed. Because when Wesley Hayes-Preston stops you in the hallway, puts a hand on your shoulder, stares at you intently and asks in a very un-Wesley-Hayes-Preston way, "How mad are you?" it tends to throw you off. Because Wes was _not_ the sort to openly display anxiety, nerves, or any sort of affection. And the way his hand was firmly clasped on Kurt's shoulder was all about, 'you're my friend and I'm so sorry for being a conspiring asshat.'

Kurt could only sputter for a moment, looking like a beached fish caught in blinding headlights. "I'm not mad." Yeah. Cause that short answer conveyed all of his not-mad-ness.

Wes had looked disheartened, and while part of Kurt was shocked under another wave of Wes-emotions, the rational, functioning part of his mind kicked in. "No, no, no. I'm seriously not mad. David still is," he grinned, "but I don't blame you guys at all. It was really sweet of you guys to try and play matchmaker. Honestly. The romantic in me demands that I see the care and effort all of you put into it."

Wes' face returned to its normal neutral position, albeit his lips still smiled genuinely. "Did it work?" he asked in a deceptively uncaring fashion.

"Puh-lease. It's gonna take more than one little ill-fated attempt to lure this diva in," he said as saucily as he could. (Which was a lot.)

Wes simply arched a brow. One corner of his lips curled upwards in a decidedly smug half-smile. "I notice you don't deny any attraction. Something you haven't admitted to us yet, Kurt?"

Kurt, noticing his own faux pas too late, turned crimson. "I admit to nothing."

"That's what I thought."

K A V I D

"Guys, please, this isn't necessary. You're forgiven, I'm not mad—"

"You aren't, but he definitely is," Nick pointed sagely to David, who was sitting at the council table with his hands folded in front of him, face neutral. And in this case, a _frosty_ neutral.

"I'm not mad at all," David stated in a frosty-neutral-I'm-not-mad-I'm-in-a-rage-this-is-the-maddest-I've-ever-been voice.

Oh, no. Not mad. Not at all.

The rest of the Warblers, however, were trying to figure out when the heating system had broken, because the room was decidedly _frosty_ today.

Blaine sighed, and raised his hand. Wes nodded absently, thinking of his warm bed, where he could thaw himself if he could manage to survive the arctic temperatures to his right just a little longer.

"Kurt, David, everyone is really, truly sorry for yesterday. And I think I am, especially, because it was my bright idea for the entire fiasco. I hope you'll believe me when I say that I had no idea something bad could happen. If I had thought even _once_ that there would be any danger to anyone, I swear I wouldn't have convinced everyone to run around, screaming with a whole bunch of confetti. Please accept my sincerest apologies." He looked so ashamed that Kurt's affectionate-mother-hen instincts roared to life.

"It's fine, Blaine. Honestly. I had a lot of fun. I think we should do something like that more often. It got everyone to loosen up, didn't it, David?" He shot the evil eye, the look of _don't-you-think-you-should-agree-with-me-because-you-really-don't-want-me-to-bitch-you-out-later_.

David was held still in Kurt's righteous gaze, then gave a sigh after just a brief moment in the withering stare. "Alright. Fine. It wasn't the brightest idea, but perhaps we could try something else—something a little _tamer—_sometime. It was made in good intentions." And that was all he'd say.

Kurt beamed at him.

His insides were _not_ melting, dammit. When had he turned into a 12-year-old girl?

"I'm glad you feel that way, David," Wes said, startling him from his Kurt-cuteness-induced-diabetic-thought-coma, "because I actually had a thought not too long after the Warbler's GAP excursion." He refused to call it the GAP Attack. "What if we traveled to McKinley? We have a fellow glee club at that school, and even though they are our rivals for Regionals, I think we are capable of looking over that fact."

"Why would we go there, as a group?" Kurt asked, looking thoroughly confused.

"Because despite our relation to each other from that viewpoint, we are commonly united against one front."

"Aural Intensity."

"We received disturbing news last night. The head couch of this group has left his post."

"Why is this a bad thing?" Blaine looked downright cheerful at the thought of not having to face one more opponent.

"The replacement was announced at eight o'clock, our time. The person stepping in for the previous leader has a record of six consecutive national championships."

Kurt paled, and put his head in his hands. Half of the Warblers looked at Kurt and reassured him that it would be okay, patting him on the back and making jokes, but the other half stared at each other with a very clear, 'We're so screwed' air about them.

"Who is it?" David asked, his gaze torn between Kurt and Wes.

"Sue Sylvester," Kurt groaned.

"That is correct."

"Didn't she go to your old school?" Flint—who rarely said anything during Warbler practice—spoke up from his chair behind Kurt.

"Yeah, but she _hated_ us. She did everything possible to make our lives miserable. Combine that with her recent loss of the champion title this year, and she has made a coup d'etat of hell and kicked Satan off his post. We are _screwed_."

The others looked around, pale, and David decided to be the voice of reason and pull everyone back together. "So why do you think we should go and visit McKinley? And what does Sue Sylvester have anything to do with this?"

Wes' gaze turned to David, then around the room. And in those black eyes was a look so evil, so gleefully _wicked_, that David bit his lip. Wes was about to reveal his master diabolical plan. "We're going to team up with McKinley. We're going to work together, combine our own special talents and share them equally, so that we will outshine Aural Intensity so much that the audience will _yawn_ at their performance."

"So... they're going to work with us... and we're going to work with them... how?" Even Blaine looked confounded at this.

David grinned, his agile mind taking leaps and bounds. "They have energy. They have _lots _of energy. We have class." There were cheers at that, and David looked over to see Kurt smiling subtly. "So we work with them. They take notes," more cheering and fist-bumping, "on our chords, our smooth way of singing. We pick up on their level of dynamics, their soul."

"That's not creepy at _all_," James droned, and the room burst out laughing.

"While the council is united on this front," Wes turned to look at David for his nod of approval, "we would like to clear this with everyone first. Are there any that nay-say this move to join with New Directions against Aural Intensity?"

Silence.

"Then it's done." Wes thumped his gavel.

David wondered if there was some subliminal pun he should be picking up on, between Wes and his gavel-thumping. He looked over to Kurt, who met his eyes and hid his laugh behind a moonbeam white hand.

_Apparently there was._

* * *

**_A/N: _**_I have no idea what's going on. I had it planned until the apology during Warbler practice, David's icy anger, and then... my muse took over. I'm not sure what she/he/the-Divine-One has planned. But apparently there's something big coming up. I can feel it in my bones, like from Rodger and Hammerstein's Cinderella. There'll definitely be more Kavid interaction. That much I can say. Angst? Maybe. Drama is a given. It's Kurt. But other than that... I have absolutely. no. idea. Hope you enjoyed this, though! :3_


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: **Okay, this is an EPIC chapter that I did not see coming! Prepare for David losing his temper, success for the rest of the Warblers and boy kissing! ^^ _

_

* * *

_

David watched Kurt on the way over to William McKinley High School. Kurt was quiet, staring out the window, at times smiling faintly to himself and at others looking terrified. When the school came into view, Kurt's features twisted, as if both expressions were fighting for the upper hand.

"Tell me what you're thinking, so I can help you out," David said softly. He thought he had a pretty good grasp on the problem, but he knew for sure that it would be better to let Kurt say it out loud, rather than bottle it up.

"I get to see my friends."

"You're happy about this."

"Of course! Mercedes is going to be so happy! I bet I'll be swarmed by her and Quinn and Tina and Britany—Britany will be able to see her dolphin again—and maybe even Rachel will join in. Santana probably won't, but she's never been a huge fan of me, anyway. Sam, Mike and Artie will be happy, I think."

"And your stepbrother?"

Kurt looked surprised. "Finn? He'll be surprised, then he'll crush me between his Gigantor hands in his enthusiasm to give me a hug. He's a bit... overzealous."

David smiled. "So everyone will be happy to see you. You'll be happy to see them. What's put that frown on your face, then?" David already knew before Kurt said it, but he waited patiently, his heart going out to the torn look on his best friend's face.

"The bullies... they'll be there, too. I don't know if they'll actually be _at_ the Glee club, but they'll still be at the school. _There_. And their attention spans are short enough that they'll be distracted from whatever they're doing—some football thug cult activity, no doubt—that they'll come and see what all the ruckus is about, and then they'll see us, and if they have slushies—"

"Hey, now. Easy there, Kurt. Slushies? They're going to greet us by handing us sugared beverages?"

"They're going to greet us by throwing them in our faces." Kurt's voice was monotone.

"They—what? That's ridiculous."

"You're right. I made it all up—"

David silenced him by putting a hand over his mouth. "I didn't say that," he said calmly, smiling a little to Kurt. "I said _that_ was ridiculous, meaning their barbaric waste of delicious liquid sugar. I did _not_ say that _you _were ridiculous, which would have been entirely uncalled for. They're Neanderthals, Kurt. I got that from the first time you told me about their personal lack of hygiene. I got it. I wouldn't put it past them to take a shot at showing the new guys who's boss." He paused. "I can also tell you that if any of them think to do that, the Warblers will handle themselves very well. Meaning Wes will beat their brains in with the Mighty Gavel until the ones left alive scream uncle."

Kurt shot out a surprised laugh from behind David's hand. David grinned and removed the barrier between them.

"Better now?"

The pale Warbler nodded. "Much. Thank you. It's just... after the last month there..."

"Kurt, no one is going to let anything happen to you." David's dark eyes were steady on Kurt's own glasz, and the look held for several seconds.

"I believe you, then," Kurt said in a light-and-easy way, trying to dispel the sudden tension.

David smiled and nodded in victory. "Good. Because you're our main bridge between these people. From the stories we've heard... this may take some concerted effort. It's not like the Warblers are known for their spontaneous springing into song and dance."

"The last time that happened, Jeff tripped James, who then knocked over a lamp. I thought Neil was going to pee himself for a moment there."

David chuckled. "Good thing Flint saved the day with his football moves."

"Good thing Flint's over six feet tall and has a long reach and amazing reflexes. Otherwise, Neil might have had a Warbler shaped indentation in his skull."

"That would have been an interesting war story."

Kurt chuckled now, and got up after David to exit the bus. The two traveled side-by-side to the auditorium, with its vaulted black ceiling and stage set with risers for the Glee club to practice for Regionals.

Talking in the front few rows, huddled together and chatting animatedly, was the rag-tag bunch of high schoolers. Mercedes saw them first, and screamed. The diva_ launched _herself down the aisle and _tackled_ Kurt without slowing a minuscule amount. As it was, he tipped backwards like a domino until his back hit someone else's front—maybe Adam, he wasn't sure. Thankfully, this person was much bigger, and held all three of them up. Kurt was laughing hysterically, while Mercedes was exclaiming sentiments that Kurt couldn't quite identify, as his ears were ringing.

His support system vanished as he was viciously attacked by the rest of the female population of New Directions—Lauren excluded, cause she didn't do hugs—and they went down in a screaming mass of arms, legs, and long hair.

Laughter was the first thing he heard as they finally got up enough to allow him to breathe. The Warblers around him were laughing and looking at each other like, "This hilarious. Should we help him? No. Let's just watch and chuckle."

"Thanks for protecting me, guys," he said drolly as he pushed himself up.

"We heard you were coming, but we didn't know for sure if _you_ were going to be with them, but you are, and—" Tina was holding Kurt's hand and attempting not to jump up and down, given by the vibrating quality about her.

"We completely would have understood, had you not wanted to come," Quinn said with reason, and she smiled widely at him.

"So, Kurt, which one is your boy-toy?" Santana quipped loudly, getting his attention. Surprisingly, she had been one of the ones to reach and maul him first, and she was giving him a genuinely happy-for-him smile.

"That'd be him," Blaine pointed towards David, who turned the color of dark strawberries and sputtered.

Santana gave him a once over, twice over, and pinned her dark gaze on him. "You'd better be careful, Mr. Candy Lips. Cause if you hurt my boy, I will hurt _your_ boys. Understand?"

"Oh! Burn!" Could be heard from the so-called 'distinguished' Dalton boys, but Kurt looked over from Santana to David with a horrified look. "I think she's actually serious!"

"Oh, I am, Porcelain. He makes one single hair on your head droop, and I will personally see to it that his man-dangles are removed with tools usually reserved for castrating cows."

"Ooookay, I think that's enough!" Kurt was trying not to laugh at David's abashed-afraid-affronted look. "He's a friend, Santana. And I'd appreciate it if no one else threatened anyone's manhood. They're an all-boy's school—they tend to take offense to it." He looked up to see the rest of New Directions, waiting for the Girl Sea to part and allow them through. Artie took one look at him and swept his arms in, demanding a hug. Kurt was summarily passed around like a rag-doll. Even Puck gave him a manly thump-on-the-back-hug that knocked the wind out of him.

"Good to see you again, Kurt!" Mr. Shue stepped forward and gave him a hug, then shook hands with David, Wes, Thad and Blaine, who were in the front of the group. "I'm so glad you guys called and suggested what you did. I think we could really get somewhere if we work together."

"It's going to take more than one hour to get there, though. And we can't always take three hours away from doing schoolwork," Wes said neutrally.

"Of course. I fully understand that homework comes first. If it'd be easier, we can switch every weekend on who goes where to meet up."

Wes and Thad nodded. "We really appreciate your enthusiasm to work with us, Mr. Schuester," David said sincerely. "Given that we're from two competing teams, we were surprised at how open you were to all of this."

Shue gave him a bashful smile. "Honestly, I couldn't believe it was true, at first. My first thought was that you might want an inside look for Regionals, but this is a really good idea." He turned to the rest of the group. "So here's the thought behind this, everyone. They're going to work with us on how to build chords to their fullest potential, and we're going to show them how we use our individuality to give depth to our songs. Sound good so far?" Cheers and grins were exchanged from both sides. "Excellent. Let's get to work."

They ended up all on stage, one giant circle spread across three risers, with Shue sitting backwards on a chair towards stage front. Blaine and Nick were undoubtedly the most enthusiastic when it came to composing songs. Blaine was expressive in a way that he saved solely for music, with wild hand movements and facial expressions that his dapper ways usually restrained him from sinking to. But for now, he and Nick launched each other into different ways to build chords, the dynamic levels and crescendos and decrescendos at just the right moments, the subtle ways of layering different parts of songs. Of course, they were a capella, so even the instrumental parts had to be represented, which New Directions wouldn't have to worry about, but layers built character to the song.

Next came time for the New Directions group to explain how they used their own voices, showcased them, and then pressed the launch button. Mercedes, with her voice built for belting out amazing notes, Rachel, for her Broadway style and glassy voice, Artie's gangsta voice, Puck's bad boy, Finn's smooth, Tina's airy mist, Santana's rough edge, all of them combining with Mike and Britany's dance moves to create a style that was completely new, their own. Instead of hiding their individuality to blend together, they worked through their differences to form a depth of song that combined heart, talent, a willingness to support each other that went beyond words and steps.

In the end, Mike ended up teaching Jeff, the undisputed dancer of the group, even in something like Bills, Bills, Bills, some of his tricks, and Blaine played guitar with Puck. Finn competed with Flint on the drums, each handing over the sticks and laughing, trying to outdo each other or show another a series of rolls and complicated combinations, all the while making horrible jokes and trying to crack one another up. Santana and Adam were having a serious discussion, and she laughed openly.

Kurt looked around at the groups meshing together, laughing, joking and showing each other things that the other could learn. It was...

"Amazing, right?" David leaned over to Kurt, who smiled and nodded.

"It is. I would never have thought that any of this could happen. Nick and Rachel are talking best musicals. Wes is actually having fun with Tina. She must be making Asian jokes." He shook his head, not even going to get into the background story for that little tidbit.

"Honestly, I was a little worried myself. I mean, we're supposed to be rivals. I guess that whole 'united under one common enemy' thing is true."

Kurt laughed at David's history geekness. "Sure thing, oh scholarly one."

"Hey. Nothing wrong with being a nerd."

"Unless you were the one that got dumpster dumped."

David's nose wrinkled. "Ugh. Never going to happen. I'm too tall for that."

"I don't know. I'm sure if you pissed Flint off enough, he'd been big enough to throw you."

"He wouldn't dare. He's too ticklish."

Silence for a pregnant moment. Then Kurt started laughing, unable to stop until he was nearly crying. "Do I even want to know how you know this, David Johnson?"

The aforementioned teen was so embarrassed that he had turned dark red again. "Noyoudon't. Leavemealone," he mumbled out from behind his hands.

"Aww, come on, David. Don't be like that! I know that Finn is ticklish, and there's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Yeah, but you're brothers." The taller Warbler peeked from between his fingers. Since Kurt was on one riser above him, David was actually just a smidge shorter than the coiffed boy.

"Yes, however, we aren't exactly really all that close. I mean, it took until the wedding that we even really talked to another all that much. I mean, the first time we ever actually said more than a dozen words was when I was giving him a pep-talk about it all. He questioned my decision to release three hundred white doves inside the building. _He_ thought it might be a bit of a mess."

"What did you say to that?" David grinned.

"I told him that's why we would feed them glitter." Kurt's classic bitch face assumed itself as he said this, sending the other boy into a fit of laughter.

"Glitter, Kurt? Seriously? Did he _actually_ buy that?"

"He _actually_ bought that!" Their heads just sort of gravitated closer as they bent forward, laughing. An idea popped into Kurt's head, and he grabbed David's hand. "Hey! I wonder if my locker has been left untouched. If so, I left some things in there to surprise the next person!"

"Surprises? Like what?" David allowed Kurt to pull him—by his hand—towards a door located in one of the wings, then out and into an empty hallway. Compared to Dalton's magnificent architecture, wall paintings, furniture, _everything_, the public school looked rather... bright. Harsh. Sterile. Not welcoming, in the least.

Kurt tugged him to a locker, then put in the combination. When the door swung open, David grinned, chuckling and proud at the sight before him.

_I am Kurt Hummel _looked back at him. On the bottom was a collage glued to the metallic surface. It displayed fashionable clothing, Lady Gaga, musicals, movies, books, all sorts of different things, then at the bottom, _COURAGE_ in different letters.

"I think you have that in spades, Kurt. You've never needed anyone to tell you that." David looked up from the scene before him to realize that in order to view inside the crowded locker, he had inadvertently gotten _very_ close to his fellow-Warbler-crush.

"Do you think so? I keep wondering if maybe I should have stayed, tried to fight it out." Kurt took his bottom lip between his teeth.

Dragging his eyes up from that sight, David's gaze was intense on the daintier boy's. "I know so, Kurt. That idiot threatened to _kill_ you, Kurt. That's never something to be taken lightly. Never. So I for one am very, very glad you decided to be smart as well as courageous and transfer."

Shit, shit, shit. Where had that come from? He had meant to say it as a friend being glad another friend had decided to switch schools. Not a crusher being grateful his crushee had moved into the crucher's school, where the crusher could stare longingly at the crushee for multiple hours of the day.

Not that David stared at Kurt longingly for multiple hours of the day. That would be ridiculous. David would never get anything done.

A few secret glances did the job done just fine.

But now, David had opened his big, fat mouth and verbal vomit had just flown the coop and landed him in the doghouse. Because Kurt, being the genius he was at anything emotional, had taken what David had just said, run it through the supercomputer program that was his mind, and come out with the only possible—and ridiculously _obvious—_reason for the emphasis behind his words.

"Really?" Kurt asked, snapping him out of his misery. David's head yanked upwards so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. The glasz-eyed male was staring at him with a combination of wonder, shyness and something definitely _other_. As in the sort of other that was usually accompanied with a confession more-than-just-friends sort of liking.

"Really," he said brilliantly.

"What do you mean?" Crystal clear, predominantly blue eyes stared steadily into his, searching for something, and finding it. But obviously waiting for David to say it out loud. Oh crap.

He swallowed hard, then gathered his _own_ courage. "I mean... _I'm_ really glad you came to Dalton."

"Why?" Kurt pressed on, wanting to hear what was at the core of this sentence.

David gave a harsh breath and stepped forward, almost touching Kurt, but for a hairsbreadth between them. "Because it would have been really hard to get to know you, your sense of humor, your intelligence, your laugh, your heart, when you're an hour away."

Kurt was silent for a moment, looking between David's eyes in a surprisingly vulnerable way. "So... you'd miss me?"

"Yeah, Kurt, I'd miss you." He didn't even think before saying it, because there was no need to. It was honestly how he felt.

"David, do you... like me... as more than a friend... right now?" Kurt took his bottom lip between his teeth again, nibbling at it nervously. Unknowingly testing David's control to the very brink.

"Kurt, I have _always_ liked you as more than a friend. Even when you're making coal mine jokes and telling us you've had a cat thrown at your head." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were still so unguarded and a little scared, to be honest. "I just thought... you wouldn't care... cause there was always Blaine..."

"Blaine and I aren't like that. But... if I did... with you? What if I returned those feelings?" Kurt looked down at the floor, then took a deep breath that nearly sealed the gap between them and looked back at David from beneath long lashes.

David couldn't answer. He couldn't find the words to say, even with his supposedly Einstein IQ. All he could do was cup Kurt's cheek, his thumb sliding along the high arch, then slide his palm back to gently, oh so gently cup the back of Kurt's head. In slow-motion, their lips moved closer together, and since there was only that tiniest of distances, it was only a short breath until soft lips met soft lips. Kurt's swift inhale came just before a soft sigh, and David felt like king of the world when the smaller boy seemed to melt into him. The hand not sinking into Kurt's downy soft hair drifted around his waist to anchor the small of his back with David's wide palm.

All the meanwhile David continued to nuzzle Kurt's lips with his own, and the feeling was _amazing_. Kurt was pressing back, now, not aggressively, but sweetly, so sweetly, and it was melting David from the inside out. He backed away just far enough to rest his forehead against Kurt's, and smiled. "And that was the only first kiss that matters," he said softly. Kurt laughed, and sought David's lips again. And again. And again. And every singe one was _perfect_.

"Hey, fags! Get a room!"

The slur jolted Kurt like he'd been shocked, and he stiffened in David's arms. "Don't listen to him, Kurt," David whispered against his cheek. Kurt's blue eyes were wide and panicked.

"That's Karofsky," he managed to stumble out. Instantly David's whole demeanor changed.

He turned towards the hulking male and stood partially in front of Kurt, so that Kurt didn't have to look at his tormentor. "Karofsky, right?" he said with a forced nonchalance.

"Why do you want to know? Going to ask me out?" A sneer marred his face.

"I have better standards, sorry. I like my dates to actually have the balls to be out of the closet. Weren't you the one that bullied Kurt Hummel? Trying to hide a crush, were you?" He raised an eyebrow in a deliberately taunting fashion.

"What are you saying, homo?" The bulky male took a few steps towards them, his eyes so focused on David he couldn't even tell it was Kurt behind him.

"I'm saying you're in the closet, you're gay, you're just as queer as we are. Only you don't have the guts to admit it, so you settle for picking on everyone to try and cover it up. Only guess what? It doesn't work. See, everyone at Dalton knows the story, of how you bullied Kurt Hummel so much, threw him in dumpsters, shoved him into lockers, and then, when he confronted you, you tried to force yourself on him. I think that makes it pretty apparent that you're just as gay as I am. Gay, queer, skittles, rainbows and unicorns. You seem the type to have a man purse."

"David, what are you doing?" Kurt squeaked behind him, and David pressed farther back just the tiniest bit so Kurt would feel the pressure and hopefully feel comforted.

"You son of a bitch! You don't know anything!"

"Oh, I know a lot more than you think. You just couldn't stand that Kurt was out there, exactly who he wanted to be. He has more balls than you ever will." A tick set off in the jock's forehead. "Hit a nerve? You were jealous. You wanted to be out, but you didn't have the courage to, so you took it out on him. You had a serious crush though, am I right? He's beautiful, he's graceful, he's smart and funny and he's got more class in his pinky toe than you could hope for in your entire life. And that just makes you the weak link in the rainbow connection, doesn't it? The colorless skittle. The unicorn with a... horn." Karofsky roared, completely unbalanced by the taunts that David had thrown at him, and charged, fist raised.

David's entire being grew steady, calm and completely centered. He stepped forward and grabbed the arm attached to the protruding fist and spun the heavier male straight into the lockers across the hall, away from Kurt. Karofsky had plenty of padding, so it didn't do much damage. He turned around and caught a look of Kurt for the first time. "You! You told them. You told all of those prep-school girls. I'm gonna kill you!" He lunged, but this time, David was on him like a bat out of hell. He dropped to the floor and kicked out, swiping his opponent's feet out from underneath him and sending him crashing to his back. Karofsky turned and scrambled to his feet, already swinging at David, but the darker man just blocked by sending his forearm into the other man's forearm and sweeping up and away. Ice cold, but raging underneath, David then cracked the hard part of his forehead into the bully's nose. Giving an unholy roar, he grabbed the larger male by a one-handed death grip around his neck and used his entire body to heave forward for him, backwards for his opponent, sending them both to the floor, where David held him pinned, eyes burning, but tone ice cold. "Do not ever, _ever_, think of coming within an inch of Kurt Hummel. Do not _speak_ about him, do not even _think_ about him."

The other man was holding his nose, which was bleeding all over the place, but he was stupid enough to grind out, "Or what?"

David rose slowly and stood over him. "I don't need to say anything. Your 'or what' is already here." He looked up at the crowd that had gathered at the noise. Jocks, hearing their fellow football player in trouble, and glee clubbers alike had joined to watch the fight.

Without another look to them, he turned and walked back to Kurt, who was huddled against the open locker with a hand pressed to his mouth. The adrenaline high that had poured through his system wore off like someone had dumped cold water on him, and David suddenly felt horrible. Holy shit, what if Kurt now wanted to take back everything he'd said? What if David had completely scared him? Given by the glassy look to his eyes, David thought that might be the case. He felt sick.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and looked down. "I didn't mean to—I just wanted him to leave you alone—I never meant for you to see me, when I... I'm so sorry."

Arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him so closely it was almost like having the breath squeezed out of him. Kurt's tears fell on his shirt, and David's arms immediately wrapped around Kurt's shoulders. David let out a shaky breath and buried his head on Kurt's shoulder.

More arms wrapped around them, and the pair felt themselves being tugged to the middle of the hall, where there were surrounded in arms. Suddenly, Mercedes' voice rose from the sea of appendages. "I'm about to whip somebody's ass," she started to sing with as much diva attitude as possible. "Oh, I'm about to whip somebody's ass. Whoa, if you don't leave me alone, you're gonna have to send me home. Cause I'm about to whip somebody's ass!"

Kurt started to laugh—a watery laugh, but a laugh, nonetheless—and let out a deep breath. The rest let out their own sighs of relief and backed away, letting the two have their moment.

David didn't even know where to begin. He just stayed quiet, searching Kurt's face. "I was so scared," Kurt said softly. He looked up at David, and everything was written in his eyes. "When he came at you... David, what were you thinking, taunting him like that?"

David looked back at the floor, ashamed. "I made a guess that, given his obvious temperament—"

"David." Kurt's response was not encouraging.

He swallowed roughly. "I knew that if I pushed him, he'd attack. If he attacked, others would hear, and come running. So I did, he did, they did, and they all saw what happened. I never took a swing at him, so it isn't a fight. He verbally attacked us, physically attacked me, and then threatened to kill you when he saw you. Kurt... people like him wouldn't just leave you alone. Sooner or later he would be unable to stop himself, he'd _have_ to 'check in' on you, make sure you were still scared of him enough to keep quiet. I didn't want you to ever be scared."

"Well, I was."

David nodded, silent. He had so screwed up, he had terrified Kurt. Why, why, _why_ had he thought it would be a brilliant idea to provoke the bully? Just when they were getting started. He felt caught in a soap opera, with drama falling around his ears. How was he going to make things right again with Kurt, how was he going to—

His hand was being held. David looked up enough to see Kurt taking his hand and putting it on his shoulder, then doing the same for the other one. Then Kurt stepped in and just held him close again.

"He was so mad, David. I had never seen him like that. Something must have been eating at him, someone must have been undermining him, because he was _never_ this unstable when I was here. And then, you call him out, and he's flying at you, and all the sudden he's slamming face-first into the lockers, and then he's shouting and running at me, and then... I was so scared, David. You're tall, and you're strong, but he's got hands like an entire pig, only twice as compact."

David was speechless for a moment. He truly was turning into a pre-teen girl, because his insides kept dissolving, and he had to keep sniffling. "I am so, so sorry you were scared Kurt." He pushed on, needing to be absolutely honest. "But even if I could go back and redo things, I would still do the same thing. I don't... I can't let anyone terrorize you like that. Don't ask me to choose, Kurt."

Kurt was silent for so long, David's hopes started to crumble. He really had messed up. "Just promise me that you will never go looking for a fight? I don't want you to think that you're my big, gay superman."

David chuckled weakly. "I think I can promise that. Come here." David pulled Kurt close and settled his cheek into the fair skinned boy's hair. "Thank you."

"I know, I'm so forgiving. It's a weakness of mind." The tone was so _Kurt Elizabeth Hummel _ that it made both of them laugh. "Oh, and David?"

"Yes, Kurt?"

"Other than the whole terrifying part, you're kind of sexy when you're mad."

K A V I D

"Did you see Karofsky's face? Oh my god. We need to see if Kurt's okay!"

"No!" The entire Warbler ensemble shouted, blocking the door from Quinn.

"But he was so scared! That asshole wanted to kill him!"

"And David was there to keep him safe," Wes deflected easily.

"Yeah, but that was just luck."

A few chuckles. "David is a serious martial artist. He had everything under control."

"Okay, but he still needs us right now!"

"You are not going to take one step into that hall." Wes was very, very serious.

"Why not?" The members of New Directions were starting to get anxious, wanting to go comfort their friend but unable to. This did not exactly make for good team-team relations.

"We've been trying to set these two up now for a _month_. They're finally getting somewhere! So just a few more minutes, and then we'll step aside, I promise." Blaine smiled with disarming charm.

"How can we trust him with someone who just went Jet Li all over Karofsky's ass?" Puck stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest and badass 'tude written all over his face.

"Notice that David never _once _punched him?" Blaine asked, looking around to see everyone thinking it through. "If Karofsky tries to pin any of this on David, no one will be able do anything. Karofsky was being verbally aggressive in the first place, bullying a homosexual couple. Then he attacks them. And because David never took one step towards the other guy—unless it was to deflect something or keep him away from Kurt—if Karofsky tries to take this to court, it will _ruin _Karofsky. David never threatened him, never attacked, but kept planting him on the ground and backing off. But he never attacked Karofsky, even though he probably wanted to beat the shit out of him. So honestly, things are looking pretty good for Kurt and David right now."

Wes looked over, looking distinctly proud. "It was brilliant. The evidence against Karofsky is irrefutable. This is going to be all over the news. The schoolboard won't be able to do anything but let him go."

"Wait... so Karofsky won't be able to pick on Kurt anymore?"

Blaine sent Wes a desperate 'don't answer that!' glance, but Wes didn't pick up on it. "That's correct."

"So then Kurt can come back?" Rachel looked excited.

Wes was shocked out of his smug look, and turned to Blaine, stunned. "Not necessarily," Blaine hedged. "The other football players aren't going to take this very well. If he were to come back here, they would probably want to get back at him for what happened to their friend. And without David, he wouldn't stand much of a chance."

"But we could protect him. We've said this before," Puck was determined now.

"You can't be around him all day, everyday. Eventually the guy's gotta pee, sleep, and take a shower." Flint's distinct voice spoke up from the back, and the other Warblers chuckled. New Directions was not amused.

"Listen," Blaine said, trying to reach them through the invisible wall of stubborn. "I really don't think right now would be a good time to bring it up to Kurt. He's gone through too much, and making him move back here would just be another stress that he doesn't need. He's safe at Dalton. He's happy with us, especially with David. He's finally found someone who loves him for who he is, and isn't afraid to show it. And the thing is, no one at Dalton is going to make fun of him for it."

"How do you know for sure he wouldn't be happy with us?" Finn spoke up now, his face troubled.

"Do any of you even know his favorite color?" Nick asked, looking with dark green eyes at the other glee club with serious intent.

"That's easy," Finn scoffed.

"Yeah, man. It's blue." Artie crossed his arms, like everyone would know this. It was Kurt, so it was obviously blue.

"Purple," the Warblers answered.

"What's his favorite food?" Mercedes challenged.

Jeff and James grinned at each other evilly. "Spicy basil with crispy chicken—"

"medium hot, with jasmine rice—"

"but no fortune cookie afterwards."

"With coconut juice, to drink. Kurt likes foreign food." Wes nodded, arms crossing over his chest.

Gaping faces. "We may not be like you guys," Blaine said slowly, carefully, "but we really care for him. He's a part of our group now. Sort of like a giant, all-male, slightly dysfunctional family. Of which he happens to be the mother hen occasionally." He smiled widely.

There was silence for a long time, until a knock on the door caused everyone to jump and the Warblers to part, chuckling. The door opened to reveal a much more peaceful looking pair than they had left earlier. Kurt and David were side-by-side, with David's hand clasped in Kurt's much smaller one. The gesture was so cute, the Warblers looked at each other with 'aww' faces.

"Shut up," Kurt mumbled, examining a nonexistent scuff on the toe of his fabulous shoe.

Mercedes came forward and wrapped her arms around first Kurt, then David, shocking them. "We're so glad you're happy, Kurt. And you," she said, gesturing to David, "take care of my boy. Need I say more?"

"No, Mercedes. I think you and Santana covered it," David chuckled.

"Jeez, you're worse than a couple of old biddies," Kurt groused good-naturedly.

She winked. "Only cause we love you so much, boo. Now, I think you guys have an hour bus ride home? You might want to get started on that, unless you intend on spending the night in Lima." She arched a doubtful brow.

Kurt stepped forward and did a group-hug with New Directions once more. "Stay out of trouble, you bunch of delinquents," he said.

"Oh please." Santana rolled her eyes, but winked at him.

And Adam.

Kurt had matchmaking to attend to later.

But for right now, he was more than happy to settle for sitting next to David on the bus, like any teenage couple—talking with each other, their friends, and being the Three Musketeers once more. And if all the Warblers patted Kurt's shoulder as they loaded onto the bus, it just made everything that much better in Kurt Hummel's world.

* * *

**_P.S. _**_If you wish to hear the song Mercedes sings, it's from a text I got. It is at youtube, then _watch?v=LcMQVCSdk-M

_Enjoy! :3_


	11. Chapter 11

David saw his boyfriend for the first time since the weekend—both Glee clubs had decided it might be best if the Warblers waited a week or two before returning—and instantly excused himself as politely as he could from his his conversation with Ben and Paul. "Hello, there," Kurt smiled up at him, and David suddenly wanted to drag him off to some undiscovered part of the planet and kiss him senseless. _Completely _senseless.

_Okay, not going there. Haven't been out on a date, yet_.

So for the first time in... _ever_... David faltered. He had just arrived just in front of Kurt, and was probably now standing there stock still, his mouth open for pigeons to nest for the spring. What he _wanted _ to do was reach forward, yank Kurt by the lapels, and commence with Plan K-in-Kiss-Stands-for-Kurt. But given the light of the fact that they had only been dating for... oh... a _day_!... David stopped short and his brain short-circuited. He had no idea what to say, do, or how to act. He was about as clueless in that moment as Blaine was during _every _romantic situation.

"Are you okay? You look a little... confused. And disappointed, but I haven't exactly done anything. Or I haven't _not_ done anything that I should have. Or whatever it is."

David laughed. Of course his this incredibly brilliant boy would know the _exact_ emotions flying through him. So it was left to David to implement the tactic they used every time. The truth.

"I have no idea how to greet you all of the sudden," he said, looking down and tucking his hands into his pant pockets. He rocked back on his heels.

The laugh brought his head up. Kurt was... amused, the devious diva. Amused at David's embarrassed expense. "What was your first thought? To shake my hand, introduce yourself?"

That tore a laugh from the taller man. "Not exactly."

"Oh, really, then. And what, pray tell, is so much more horrible than that?" Kurt's eyes showed that he knew exactly what David's dilemma was.

And while the intellectual genius may not have that eerie near-psychic ability to divine emotional thoughts or problems, he knew Kurt. And the body language Kurt was using was definitely fine with Plan K.

Taking his hands out of his pockets, David took another step closer, his head tilting down so that Kurt's had to tilt up to retain eye contact. "I like to think action shows more than words."

"Then by all means," Kurt's voice was breathless, soft against David's face, "take action."

Smiling from ear to ear in that split second, David pulled Kurt up to meet his lips by one hand on the lapel—when had Dalton apparel become a helping hand in seduction?—and the other in the silky soft hair of the smaller Warbler. Dimly there were some _whoa_s, then cat calls, then Wes' voice finally pitched above all the rest. "Bets up, ladies and gentleman. Pay now, before class actually starts."

The couple laughed against each other, then parted enough to look over, where Blaine was looking disgusted—at Wes, of course—as he handed over what looked like a hundred dollar bill to the already disgustingly wealthy head Warbler council member.

"And what exactly was this bet about?" Kurt said with such sass David had to wrap him close. Just for a moment.

"Wes said David would do that." Nick payed the evil Asian and then sat with an ungraceful slump onto the couch. "The rest of us thought _David_," he glared at the Warbler in question, "would have more dignity. And perhaps a little less balls to do that so quick."

Kurt shrugged, then straightened David's blazer. "Well, it's not exactly like none of this went exactly as I had planned," he said loftily. There were instant shouts and whipping sounds being made towards David, who bore them good-naturedly, kissing his impudent partner once more and squeezing the back of his neck before joining Wes and Thad at the head table.

Wes picked up the gavel and thumped it down several times. Kurt caught David's eye (like that wasn't easy enough to do) and looked to the gavel, then at Wes, and then back to David, raising a meaningful brow. David had to restrain his laugh with all his will. He managed to nod ever so slightly, telling Kurt nonverbally that Wes' love of the gavel went far beyond what any straight man could claim.

"After this week's recent success with McKinley high school, we have decided to meet weekly. First they will arrive here, starting this weekend, next we will go there. This week, we will teach them how to solidify their voices into one. Conversely, they will give us tips on how to put unique style into our take of songs."

"..." Adam looked so close to saying something, but managed to raise his hand slightly before spewing it out. "That's it?"

"You expecting more?"

"Well... wouldn't it be sort of over quickly?"

"Not necessarily. They need a lot of work on creating large chords—large chords for a wide variety of songs, to give different effects—and then uniting all of those to make on central sound. We will need a bit of work ourselves to learn dance moves and put more into the song than just one voice. We'll need a lot of voices, with the same amount of perfection as we have now, only with more energy, to reach past Aural Intensity and take the audience by storm. We need a landslide."

"Why should we have to?" Jason, who right now (as usual), held a distinctly aloof air, looked around, as if faintly bored.

"I'm not sure I follow," Wes said calmly. David felt unease in the pit of his stomach.

"The panel will be the most popular selection of judges, am I correct?"

"You are."

"Popular usually meaning rising in fame. Which means ambitious."

"What are you trying to get at?" David said, his gaze locked onto Jason's. He knew _exactly_ where this was headed. And he didn't like it.

"I'm saying we give them an incentive."

"You're saying to bribe them," David's jaw was now ticking.

"I didn't say that at all." Jason smiled, and it was a bit too much like the smug cat that ate the canary and convinced the owners it was the dog that did it.

"Whether you said it or not, it's the clear line of thought," Wes interrupted. Thad was shaking his head in a decided manner.

"Absolutely not. We are not going to rely on family money to resolve this. If we cannot win this by talent, then it's not deserved." His words were surprisingly wise, given his completely different manner on Friday nights.

Jason held up his hands, looking smug for some indefinable reason. "Just putting out a suggestion."

"If that is your idea of a suggestion, it might be better if you kept them to yourself for now." David's voice was cool, calm, collected. And final. Oh, so final, it was like the guillotine free falling from its mooring.

K A V I D

"I'm just so sick of that sort of mind-frame," David said, collapsing on the floor next to his bed. The Three-but-actually-four Musketeers had silently agreed to go back to Blaine and David's room to vent with each other about the arrogance of one Jason Pettigrew. Blaine was stretched out on his own bed, arms behind his head and back propped against his headboard. Wes was sitting sideways in Blaine's desk chair, his foot moving idly as he calmly listened. Kurt was laying on David's bed, oh his stomach, with his chin propped in his hands.

"I feel the exact same way." Blaine's face was screwed up with disgust, his nose wrinkling and upper lip drawing up.

"I mean, what's the point in practicing any of the songs if he thinks we should just pay the judges off?" David made a frustrated sound and thumped his head back against the mattress. Kurt lifted his head so his hands could massage David's scalp, knowing the headache that was brewing. David's eyes closed and a small sigh escaped him. He completely missed the grins Wes and Blaine sent each other, but he couldn't miss the shorter saying, "Putty," to the head Warbler.

"Shut up," he mumbled, and made Kurt laugh above him.

"You guys shouldn't let this get to you. Yeah, there are some at Dalton who think money buys everything. Yeah, that's probably true for a lot of them. But the thing you have to remember is that they're a minority in the Warblers. Most of them are really sensitive to that sort of thing. I mean, did you see Adam's face? He looked absolutely _appalled_ at the mention of foul play! And Thad looked like his gaze would turn into a lightsaber and slice Jason in half. And not the paraplegic kind."

Chuckles met his graphic obvservation.

"It's just... a touchy subject, I guess," David said softly. His eyes were still closed, so once again he missed the look between the two who had been his friends the longest. Kurt saw it, though, and he wondered at the guarded look between them. There was a definite story behind David's words, and he intended to know. Like, _now_.

"Heeeeey, David?"

His boyfriend looked up curiously at his tone. "Heeeeey, Kurt?" The darker boy mimicked, making him smile.

"Come on." Grinning, he jumped up and tugged on David's hands. Groaning loudly, David allowed himself to be dragged to his feet and led out of the room.

"Alright, you crazy wood nymph. Where are we going?" He smiled, though, taking no offense to being manhandled by his effeminate partner.

"To a spot," came the cryptic reply.

"Okaaaaay, do I get a hint?"

"Do you know how old this building is?"

The remark through him off-balance. "Uh, no."

"Do you know how crazy the architect was?"

"The question is, why do _you _know?" He gave Kurt a side-long wary glance.

Kurt shrugged, unperturbed. "I became Hermione Granger and decided that if I was coming into the game late, I should study about Dalton and try to know just as much as everyone else."

"From what I'm gathering, you know more than anyone else. How crazy was the architect, and why does this have to do with anything?"

"The man who built this place in 1921 was the original Mad Hatter. Seriously, I'm pretty sure the Vorpal Sword was first named the Warbler Sword."

David laughed. "Okay. So he was a little out there. What does that have to do with anything?"q

"It _means, _David, that he was so crazy, he built all sorts of secret spots in the school!"

David completely stopped and looked at Kurt at this point. "Don't you think that if there were secret tunnels and hidden compartments in this building, someone would have found them, even if they just stumbled upon them by accident?"

Kurt gave a fast laugh. "_Oh_, yes, I know they did." Before David could comment on that, Kurt pulled him forward. "You'll see." They were at the bottom of the stairwell, now, where Blaine had actually first met Kurt. There was a doorway to their left, which Kurt led them to. It was a supply closet. Everyone knew this. But as Kurt pulled David into the tiny room, David caught the glint in his eye. He was excited, and big-time, like finding hidden treasure excited. Like finding the key to the Marc Jacob factory excited.

Kurt looked at the wall in front of them, then at David. "You're big and strong," he crooned. "Kick it."

Snapping out of the omg-Kurt's-eyes-are-so-beautiful haze that the little nymph(o) had lulled him under, he looked at the wall that the shorter boy had just been looking at. Gazing at it intently, nothing seemed to pop out. It looked... like a wall. Raising an eyebrow, his stare turned back to Kurt, who sighed, as if in the presence of an extremely _slow_ person. Which David still found extremely _amusing_. Here he was, the unchallenged fricking _genius_ of the school, and his diva boyfriend still sighed like he had to show David _everything_. It was too adorable, really.

"Right here. Kick _right there_." He made an X on the wall, then backed up.

"Kurt, if I kick it, the plaster will break, and then we'll be charged with breaking private property."

An eyeroll met this. "Humble brag."

"What?" David shrieked.

"Humble. Brag. Mister. Put your foot where your... well, in this case, where your foot is." He swept his hands in a 'after you' sign, although he was grinning. He knew just how to rile David up. And it was working, the little fucker.

Turning his attention back to the wall in front of him, David rose his leg up to his chest, spun to gain some momentum, and _pummeled_ the fucking wall. Only it didn't break. There was a thud, and then Kurt patting his shoulder with pride.

"It took me _forever_ to get that open the first time. You and I should play hooky, now that we know you're so handy." With a wink, he shoved the door open. David watched as it slid smoothly and Kurt disappeared into the darkness.

"Wait, hey!" He was absolutely _stunned_. How had no one figured out this was here? How did Jeff and James not know this? He caught up to Kurt, who had whipped out his—don't go there, David—cell and was now shining the light sideways, so it lit up the tightly enclosed walls and both boys' faces. That satisfied grin was still plastered to his face.

"Believe me now?"

David nodded. "How did you find this?"

"Like I said. I found a book in the library that showed the basic blueprints, but some of the things didn't quite add up. Rooms that weren't there, rooms that had different sizes, spaces that should have been rooms, but were just 'part of the architecture.' So I googled the name of the designer, and lo and behold, he was committed not too long after that. So I saved the picture of the blueprints and went on a house-hunt."

David stepped close and kissed him gently. "You're brilliant," he whispered.

"Coming from you, that's quite a compliment." Kurt's voice was sincere, like a caress in itself. "Come on, I want to show you something." He led them on a series of twists and turns, one hand tucked warmly into David's, the other swiveling between lighting the way and looking at the screen to find the route he wanted.

About a minute and forty seconds later, he stopped at the base of some stairs. David looked at it skeptically, then at Kurt.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I 'borrowed' a ladder and used my handyman's skills to take out a chunk of the landing above it. Don't worry, I sanded out the edges, so you don't have to worry about finding a splinter in your delectable ass later." With another of those saucy winks (David was fast realizing how much of a fucking turn on those were, and _exactly_ how fast they could melt his Mensa-level brain) he stepped around the base of the stairs, sidled towards the ladder, and skedaddled up like a rabbit. David was left to shake his head and try to suck his ribcage into his spine to get past the stairs, then try to squeeze his shoulders past the rabbit hole.

"You know, when you decided to become a beaver and gnaw through the wood, you could have made it a little wider." He made an 'aha!' when he succeeded at popping out like a cork and took Kurt's helping hand.

"Sorry. I forget not everyone is fashionably slim."

"I'm fashionably broad-shouldered. I'm built like an athlete, and you like it. Don't even try to deny it."

Kurt's eyes raked down, then back up, and the blue-green had darkened. "Oh, hunny, you'll hear no complaints from me."

David wanted to swear with how much he loved/hated how melted Kurt could make him feel with just those words. With anyone else, he was level-headed, smooth, charming, but one look and a few well-said words from Kurt reduced him into a hormonally-driven teenage male. It was so not his norm that David didn't know how to deal with it. It was both wonderful and terrifying—not to mention horrifying when they were out in public.

David wanted to thunk his head against the wall. He was such a freaking goober.

Being tugged forward once more, he followed—and stared. The mirrors above the curve of the stairs, looking out into the stairwell as well as the open area of the great commons above it, were _two-way mirrors_. He gawked at the realization that he could see into the commons, watch students passing by, know who was skipping, when, what they were doing.

David turned to Kurt, honestly shocked. "I'm not sure whether this is amazing, or creepy."

"I usually go for creepy, but just wait!"

Kurt's enthusiasm doubled as he now practically _dragged_ David (and Blaine—hyper, easily excited hobbit—could attest to how hard it was to drag David) towards another set of stairs. He paused at the bottom. "Um... I couldn't get another ladder up here by myself, so it's best if you stick to the sides. The support system is stronger there, than in the middle. Just in case." He smiled disarmingly and led the way, fearless as ever. It wasn't like the timbers had been set in the 1600s or anything, but it was still smarter to be on the safe side. Just in case.

When they got to the top of this one, Kurt opened a door and his hand flew to his eyes. David, however, was not so savvy, and made a disgruntled noise as the light stabbed at his eyes. "Jeez, a little warning there, babe." Kurt whipped around and stared. "What?"

"You called me babe."

David shifted from foot to foot. "Yeah?"

"You never call me those names."

Now David looked as sheepish as he felt. "Well... maybe I wasn't as sure of calling you those as you are for me."

Kurt saw—with his psychic ability—the insecurity that caused this. "This has something to do with what you said earlier."

"I said a lot of things earlier."

"Don't you try and avoid this, David Johnson. There's something big behind this." When David remained silent, Kurt sighed, and seemed to give up. He walked forward with the taller boy. Instead of dragging him someplace, this time he walked slowly, and remained silent when he revealed the spectacular view. It fully clicked for David that this was the roof of the West Wing, which was built right next to the gardens. Overlooking the frozen beauty, David marveled at how the sunlight struck the fountain—still, solid ice for the winter—and made it look like a pool of white light. Everywhere, sparkles of rainbows glinted as the sun reflected off snow, icicles, anything wet.

They stood near the edge in shivering silence, and after a few minutes of gawking, David realized Kurt hadn't launched into a meaningful, wise, and undeniably intelligent story that proved a solid point. He turned his head, confused. "There's no story of why you brought me here?"

Kurt shook in my head. "I wanted to share it with you. That's it." He didn't look at David, but with those simple words, he managed to unman him.

David wrapped his arms around Kurt from behind and pressed a kiss into his hair. "Do you know how incredibly _difficult_ it is to have a boyfriend like you?" he said seriously. Kurt stiffened, and moved to pull away, but David held him tight. This listening thing was going to go two ways, dammit. "I feel like it doesn't matter what I do, what I say, how wrong I am, you're there to straighten everything out—which, let me tell you, nearly kills me with the irony." It took Kurt a moment for everything to sink in, but when it did, he laughed and relaxed completely into David's hold. "That sort of... steadiness... is terrifying. To think that I can depend on someone else to solve problems for me is something completely new, and I have no idea how to respond to it. So on top of all of this, us, being a new experience that I have no past knowledge to go off of, there's your intelligence, your humor, your diva qualities, but more than anything, _anything_, your _steady_ qualities make me want to run to ground and hide."

"W-Why, David?" Kurt's arms bound over the other boy's much larger ones, as if to keep him there.

David sighed harshly, and dropped his forehead so it was resting against the back of the brunette's. "When I was little, my parents use to fight, all the time. After that, one, the other, usually both, would go away for long periods—supposedly for 'work,' but I doubted it, even then. And then, when I was twelve, my mother just never came back. I tried to stop the fight, but my father had a bit of a temper, and he was drunk. And she didn't want to deal with it anymore. I'd heard the argument a thousand times—she had never wanted any children, had never wanted to settle down in one house and play the faithful, doting wife. But this time, something was different. She said she was done, that she was out of there. And my father he... he snapped." He took a shuddering breath. "He said he had put too much money into her, that he owned her... I think he'd rather have killed her than let her leave."

"What happened?" Kurt's voice was so tiny.

"I tried to make them stop fighting. Even at twelve I was a bit... mature. I thought if I could play the mediator between them, then something could be solved, and they would stop fighting. At least for a little while." A disgusted grimace pulled at his lips. "My father thought I was being uppity, trying to act like a man when I knew nothing about what it took to make one."

"That's why you were so upset. Not just with Jason, but with that shrieking bitch. She said you weren't a real man. It sent you straight back to being twelve, in front of your father." David nodded, unable to clear the obstruction in his throat. Kurt turned around in David's arms, and rose his own around the taller boy's neck. The two stayed like that for a long time, with both holding on as tight as they could. "They were wrong. You're so much better than them. You're the most imperfectly perfect man I know, David. You're too smart for your own good, you're mature, you've got a sense of humor that grows on a person, you have a smile that makes me turn into a squealing fangirl, and you have the patience to put up with me. And I am so, so grateful that I met you."

Kurt cried, David cried, and they kissed heatedly, deeply, as if the two needed to be as close as humanly possible, then closer some more. Kurt was the first to pull away, surprisingly, and pressed kisses all over David's face. "Come on. There's a part of these tunnels that runs to our wing. We're going to go and curl up and watch geeky movies and action movies and we're going to make out on my bed."

"Why, Kurt, are you asking me on a date?" David grinned, pressing a kiss to Kurt's lips again.

"Why, David, I think I am. Only it's not much of a date. We're still staying in the dorm, and there's nothing fancy about it."

David silenced him again with a deeper kiss, this time his tongue tracing the seam of Kurt's lips before backing away, just to hear Kurt's breath catch and release on a disappointed groan. "I don't need fancy, Kurt. You are classy enough just by breathing."

"Smart man. Flattery will get you everywhere." With a saucy look, Kurt led them back to their dorm. David wondered how such a slender person could have such a huge impact on David's entire world.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_They're disgustingly cute. Absolutely rainbow-vomit-inducing adorable. :3 I love these two. Love-love scenes (aka hot boyboy kissing... and more... LOTS more) has been requested, and my muse is going, "Psh. You thought there WASN'T going to be any? Puh-lease. Since when have you written ANYTHING that hasn't had lovemaking in it?" Soooo, with my muse whipping me (get your mind out of the gutter! I can see it circling the drain, so don't deny it ;P) with the unavoidable truth, there will be some soon. I hope I can do it justice! Cause both of these boys are fiiiiiiiine and yummy. :D_


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N:** WARNING! NOT FOR YOUNG PEOPLE WITH EASILY SCARRED MINDS. That being said, it was **really** hard to write this! I wanted to have the right spice level (winkwink) but not so much that it was word porn. Okay, so it's probably turned out that way ANYWAY, but I wanted it to have emotions outside of teenage boy OMGSEXFJDLJFKSDLSJ in there as well. All in all, this is an up-close view on a huge stepping stone for these two, obviously. I hope I did it justice!_

_Oh, and just to make you laugh, I'll tell you that I've found out that my parents read my stories, so they'll see this. :) **That'll** be an interesting topic at dinner! _

_Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

Kurt stared at the wall, his mind a million miles away from the walls of his bedroom. Well, actually, it was more like a few dozen feet down, with two rooms across the hallway from each other. David and Blaine shared a room, but Wes was right across from them. Now that he knew of David's past, the odd pieces were starting to come to light. But that just put more contrast on the shadows that made up Blaine and Wes' respective pasts. Why was Wes so stoic, silent and always having to be in control of his surroundings? And Blaine... why did Blaine act so different between their small group, and the rest of the student body? The puzzles kept going around in Kurt's brain, revolving and revolving, taunting him with bits and pieces of memory, but not answers behind the actions.

Wes, so sober all the time, so solemn.

Blaine, from Patti Lapone fan to dapper, serious boy.

Wes, calling everyone to order when they strayed just the slightest bit out of line.

Blaine, chameleon—coffee and GQ to 'don't put your hands up, _ever_' movements.

What was it that had made them so?

A knock on the door brought him out of his fruitless thoughts. When the door opened right after with no hesitation, he grinned. His very own tall, dark and handsome smoothed his way into Kurt's room and without a single moment's hesitation, put one knee on the end of his bed and laid full out to press his lips to Kurt's. Wes? Blaine? Who were they? What had he been thinking about? He grinned into the kiss, wrapped his arms around David's neck, and arched his hips up bravely.

With a groan, David attacked his neck, his larger body pinning Kurt's to the bed now. The smaller boy's breath rattled in his ears at the suddenness, and Kurt's temperature hiked up about a zillion degrees _real _quick_._ They'd been dating for a few months now, but neither had quite been brave enough to 'make a move,' as Wes had started to plead for them to do. It was embarrassing, really, to see the stolid boy show so much emotion as to groan, throw his head onto his folded arms over the table, and give a muffled, yet still _quite_ _loud_, plea for them to find a room and have sex already.

Kurt tried to catch his breath. "Babe! What the fu—_holy shit_," his breath caught and exploded as David found the extremely sensitive line that trailed from the back of his ear to just beneath the angle of his jaw, then down to that ridiculously hot spot at the base of his neck. "Shit, baby, what lit your fire?"

"You. Today. Warblers. Holy Christ, Kurt, if you dance like that in front of everyone at Regionals, I'm going to drag you off the stage halfway through it."

Huh. Kurt's mind—deep, deep back where it wasn't being fried by the _incredible hottness_ of his boyfriend at this moment—gave a surprised, very self-satisfied laugh. Well, who knew that he could move the same way everyone else did during a performance and turn David into a hormonally driven madman? Note to self: take a belly dancing class. Or find out how to do a lap dance. Oh, wait. Got that part down. P.S. self: find a way to get David alone for a lap da—

He was going to continue that thought, except now David's hands were pushing and pulling at Kurt's shirt, his long-fingered hands unbuttoning at an amazing rate, so that in two effeminate blinks of an eye Kurt's blazer _and _his shirt were swept aside, and wide, warm palms were dragging up his torso. Kurt made a very agreeable sound, and that seemed to drive the taller boy on even more. His lips returned from Kurt's neck to press rugged, bruising, _hot_ kisses against Kurt's mouth. The blue eyed boy gasped, and David's tongue was there, slipping in and taking over with the same skill he he did everything with. When he made a deep noise, Kurt's brain snapped and he absolutely _snapped_. Kissing him back just as wildly, Kurt wrapped very flexible legs tightly around the dark boy's toned waist, loving the muscles that made the deep V he could feel under his clothes. He sent his own tongue searching, his fingers blindly, nimbly undid the buttons and David's longer clothes. Soon he was pulling the blazer and shirt from in between their bodies and throwing it somewhere. A lamp was knocked over and fell with a shatter, but didn't even register to the pair, locked in their own heated world. David's body lowered, and harsh breaths were exhaled, then absorbed by another bruising kiss as their bodies aligned. Kurt loved that his body was so much smaller than David's, how all that warmth seeped into him, enveloped him, the soft, giving bed at his back and David's hot chest, the defined abs, the V before it was stopped by their slacks.

Kurt arched, sending them to the other side of the bed so he pinned David into the sheets. Ripping his lips away, he dragged them down the larger boy's neck, biting gently but firmly on the tendon that stood out, sending David's head arching back and a loud sound ripping from his throat. Grinning ferally, Kurt kissed, licked, and sometimes bit his way down to the abs he worshiped over. He sent his tongue into the crevices, trailing down and around until he could nip the sensitive skin just inside the defined hip bone. Looking up, he saw David's hands fisted in the pillow on either side of his head, staring down with eyes blazing black. In the light of the sunset coming in through the windows, David's skin was bronze, chocolate, glowing warmth, his eyes black reflecting pools of light. Rearing up, they met halfway, lips fusing together. Kurt's hands ripped at the pants confining David, tearing at the button and ripping the flaps apart to send the zipper down in an outraged hiss. David's fingers bit into Kurt's hips as he lifted Kurt off of him long enough to arch his own hips and kick off the offending apparel and send it flying towards the end of the bed. One pant leg clung desperately to the baseboard before sliding, defeated, to the ground in an unsophisticated heap.

At the head of the bed, David was rising up from beneath Kurt, arms wrapped around the pale boy's torso and then sending him backwards with a growl. Dark hands insinuated themselves between their bodies and went to work. Unlike Kurt, though, he hooked his hands into both pants and boxers and tugged. The cool air rushing against his now exposed body caused Kurt to squeak, surprised, and blush. David's dark chuckle against his ear made him flush more, but this time it was a hot flush as the sound reverberated down his spine. One of the large hands cupped Kurt's cheek as lips settled on the other side of his head, playing behind his ear, then making its way down and around, taking the lobe between his teeth before moving downwards, releasing and making its way hotly down his neck. Kurt's eyes shut and his head arched back into the bed, his face turning into the hand holding him. The other dark arm wrapped around waist, lifting him as David kissed his way down. His tongue dipped into the intriguing belly button, causing a gasp, an arch, and the thick object just below David's mouth to twitch hotly. Grinning, David moved his head back far enough to blow cool air onto the head, and Kurt's moan surged through him like wildfire, frying the receptors as it went, so all thoughts short circuited. Before he could think twice, his tongue was dragging down Kurt's erection, causing a sharp cry from him, before wrapping his lips around it, causing a high-pitched moan that made angels weep at the pure sound. David's hands were never still, smoothing here, rubbing at sensitive areas there, then caressing and driving Kurt absolutely fucking _mindless_. His hips arched, _so _close, then were pinned as David's tongue twisted around, and that was it. Kurt was done. Gone. Kapoodle, kapeesh, ka-holy mother of fuck. His hands showed surprising strength as they tugged David up and Kurt's lips senselessly melted with David's, and that talented tongue was all it took for Kurt to fly into a million pieces, his cry swallowed into David and returned an octave lower.

"Fuck, baby, so hot. Kurt—oomph." David's whispers were drowned as the limp-boned Kurt kissed him sweetly, warmly, suddenly.

"You fried my fucking brain, David," he rasped, voice hoarse.

"Returning the favor, sweetheart." David chuckled, but stopped quickly as a glint that was rarely seen came into Kurt's brilliant blue-green gaze.

"Returning the favor, baby?" A grin spread over Kurt's mouth, and David had a very brief look of _wait, what? Oh shit!_ before Kurt flipped him onto his back and pinned his arms. Kurt's lips attacked David's the same way his own had been just after David had walked into his dorm and _ravished_ him. Ravage, pillar and plunder, Kurt could do with _style_.

It was only a minute of concentrated intuition before Kurt had David moaning and gasping underneath him. Grinning wickedly, Kurt took David's boxers—black, silky, very much Kurt-approved boxers—and pulled them down. _With his teeth_. David's breath was chopping through his lungs now, and Kurt's grin was positively _wicked_. Milky white hands smoothed up, then surprised David with their forwardness as they wrapped around him. Kurt watched as his boyfriend's head snapped back, back arching and muscles clenching deliciously. He stroked firmly, speeding up his pace and then releasing to tease those wonderful abs when David's jaw clenched. A cross between an aggravated growl and an endearing whine escaped the dark boy, and Kurt grinned against his neck, where he was playing with the high-strung nerves up and down, licking, sucking. He teased David by guiding him so close to the point of no return, then backing off and kissing him fucking brainless. David—charming, intellectual, respectable David—was reduced to writhing beneath the small, talented boy.

"Kurt—baby—please," he whispered breathlessly, and his eyes locked on Kurt's, filled with so much emotion that there was no possible way Kurt could refuse him. His lips kissed David's—not with the forcefulness of earlier, but with deep, drugging kisses. One hand smoothed up and down the long torso while the other moved up and down, faster, harder, _more, please_, _Kurt!_ until David's hips arched and his breath rattled into Kurt's mouth, and he dropped, boneless with relief, panting blindly.

"I love you." The instant the words were said, David stilled beneath Kurt, and his closed eyes shut tighter for a moment.

Kurt's heart soared, and he cupped the dark skinned face beneath him. "Look at me," he whispered.

David's eyes—scared, wanting to withdraw—opened the minutest amount. Seeing the emotion in Kurt's own eyes, he swallowed hard. "I didn't just say that because of... this... I love you, Kurt." he said in a barely-there voice.

Kurt felt the smile explode from him, unable to contain it anymore. "I'm glad. Because any other reason might have been unacceptable." He kissed David softly, deeply, trying to put into that brushing of lips everything that couldn't be put into words, every facet of this emotion, and when Kurt pulled back and looked between David's liquid ebony eyes, Kurt's smile was a little watery. "I love you, David Johnson. And it's not the sex talking."

David's arms wrapped around him tightly, and his head buried in Kurt's neck. Kurt smiled, tears slipping down his cheeks, and wrapped his arms around his neck in return. He understood deeply why David was holding him so tight; his parents had abandoned him, he'd been so strong, holding himself up, and now someone was holding him, loving him, _loving __**him**_**, **and he didn't want to let it go. Didn't want to let chance have a chance to slip it through his fingers.

So Kurt held on tighter, whispering, "_I've got you, I love you_," and the two spent the night kissing, making love, and talking deep into the night. When they fell asleep, legs tangled, curled up, arms around each other, Kurt's head was resting on David's arm, and David's head was tucked above Kurt's, his larger body curled around the smaller boy's, their faces serene.

And when they woke, they kissed, whispered conspiringly to each other. David laughed at Kurt's _eww_ face as he realized how much of a mess they were, and then laughed harder as David realized the state of Kurt's poor room. A lamp was shattered—David would have to clean up all that glass if they wanted to get to the shower—Kurt's pants were hanging over the headboard, his boxers drooping from them like a casualty of war, David's blazer had made it across the room to the other bed, where it was sprawled out and looking like it had been trying to make a run for it, but had been caught and quartered before it could escape. His shirt was halfway between the two beds, frumpled from where it had landed, and Kurt's shirt and blazer were in one heap at the side of the bed. Turning to look, David saw his pants at the end of the bed, with leg crumpled, but sticking up, as if it had been the last part to fall off the cliff. And his boxers... were nowhere to be found. He remembered the _extremely_ hot removal of them, but after that... yeah, there was no chance of remembering _anything_ except Kurt's skill after that.

Turning, he asked Kurt where his boxers were, only to receive a grin and a point upward. Somehow, after removing them _with. his. teeth. _Kurt had managed to throw them straight up so that they caught on the fucking ceiling fan.

They looked at each other, then the room, then back again. The laughter that echoed off the walls of the room made Dalton students waking up for their day smile everywhere.


	13. Chapter 13

"So, how did the sex go?"

Chocolate milk spewed across the table. David choked, coughing hard in a desperate attempt to suck in oxygen. Kurt had his best bitch face on as he gathered a wad of napkins and flipped them at Wes. "Just for that, you get to clean up the mess."

Wes grinned, complying because this was the exact result he had hoped for. Blaine was _still_ freaking out. "Gah, I've been spit on! Second hand chocolate milk! Eww!" he was currently trying to rub his skin off where droplets of David's milk had been sprayed. Wes was _dying_ of laughter. Mission Embarrass-David-and-Kurt-while-simultaneously-sliming-Blaine accomplished.

"You planned this from the beginning, didn't you? That's why you were so keen to be across from me and not David this morning. Wesley Hayes-Preston, you are evil." Kurt shook his head and patted his boyfriend on the back soothingly.

"It worked though, so I must be an evil genius!"

"You're going to be a dead genius soon enough, Hayes-Preston." David glared at him. Blaine joined in. Kurt chuckled.

"That's so what you get."

Wes rolled his eyes, ignoring the hateful looks. "Please. You'd miss me."

Blaine rolled his eyes now, and turned back towards his food. Then pushed it away in disgust. He was the _only_ teenage boy who didn't like chocolate milk, and it had to be _launched_ into his food. _Used_ chocolate milk! Gross! "Wizard god only knows why we would, but I concede. Just, please, aim him towards Jeff next time, okay?"

An indignant _hey!_ from the boy with the flash of blond hair made them laugh. "I think I can agree with that." Turning back to his current victims, he looked at them steadily. "Honestly, though, how far did you go?"

"Wes," David warned, scowling, "we are _not_ talking about our sex life with you."

"So there _is_ a sex life!" Blaine beamed at them.

Boys slid towards their table, chairs screeching across the floor. Everyone seemed to want to be in on this conversation. David and Kurt looked around at the _insanity_ that surrounded them. "You've got to be kidding me. Don't any of you have girlfriends? You really, _really_ don't need to be hearing the details about our relationship. We don't ask about _yours_!" Kurt made a shooing motion at them.

Jeff leaned in towards David, who looked over his shoulder, saw how close the other male was, and jumped. "Man, get away, you creeper! That's just not right! Can't a guy have some personal space?"

"Not when he was sharing his space with someone else last night," Jeff quipped dryly.

James waggled his eyebrows. "Did he make any sexy faces?" David sputtered, not even sure where to begin with that.

"James, my face is _always_ sexy. Never doubt this again." Kurt's _bitch, don't mess with me, I will beat you senseless with my shoe_ face was powerful enough to send the too-close Warbler away from Kurt's man.

David grinned, and took Kurt's hand in his. Kurt's face broke from its serious expression and flooded with color. A chorus of _awww_s and _that's so cute!_ and _our little babies, all grown up!_ echoed around them. Kurt scowled, but this time it didn't last very long. He was too busy emulating a strawberry.

Wes decided he needed to change the subject before he contracted diabetes. Honestly, these two should come with a high glycemic warning label. _Warning: blood sugar levels will rise, teeth will spontaneously develop cavities, skin will take on technicolor hues, and unicorns can and _will_ pop out of nowhere to serenade you._ He was surprised a rainbow didn't form over the two of them at that very moment.

He couldn't resist the smile that tugged at his lips, though.

"Alright, everyone, back to your own tables, or I'll request that Miss Holiday inform all of you about the wonders of venereal diseases the next time we meet with New Directions."

There was a split second where images popped into the minds of the surrounding Warblers, and then the scrambling sounds combined with retching noises. Wes nodded, satisfied.

"You are in serious need of some sex, my man," Blaine clapped his shoulder and went to grab another mug of coffee. David and Kurt nodded sagely.

Wes' neck slid to the side, and his features assumed a _bitch, please_ face that made Kurt proud. "My date doesn't happen to reside a couple dozen feet—at most—from me, so until the day gets out, I shall just have to content myself with the second hand sex wafting off from the pair of you in torrential waves."

Kurt laughed so hard he ended up burying his head in the crook of David's neck. David turned a much darker shade of pink to match his pale boyfriend's shade.

Honestly, Wes was going to need insulin to combat the rise of blood sugar zipping through his bloodstream at the sight of his best friend so happy with his undeniably sexy partner.

K A V I D

"Kurt, man, you should have told us you had a side piece!"

Kurt made a shrieking sound that was supposed to be, "What?" but was more of an alarmed chipmunk squeal mixed with a banshee.

"Very smooth, prep boy. Told you he'd react that way." Santana stood above him, looking between the heat flooding into Kurt's face and the dark boy—Kurt's sugar-lipped boy-toy. Santana approved, given the way he didn't react like a jealous idiot. Mr. Dark Chocolate had his head turned to the side, but the hand covering his mouth and the shaking of those _fiiiine_ wide shoulders gave his laughter away. Good. Someone as old-soul as Kurt needed someone who knew how to laugh.

Tuning back into the present, she turned her head and winked at the tall, blond Warbler with the ridiculously large mouth, gave him a wink, and sauntered over to Hummel. "So, here's the thing, Porcelain. I need some advice on something, and I definitely do _not_ want to talk about it over the phone. Capiche?"

Kurt turned blue-green-grey eyes on Santana and held her pinned under the thorough gaze. This was why she had driven an hour and a half to see Kurt, rather than just talk to someone close by. Kurt was one of those people who looked at you and saw more than what you just wanted them to see. He looked, and those pretty, effeminate features hid an alarmingly brilliant mind, one that was so very good at instinctively and intuitively _knowing_ that something was wrong. And then that brilliant mind sorted out possible ideas of what could be wrong from the sham that she put up for the rest of the world, and he sniffed like a psychic bloodhound straight to the problem.

_This_ was why she needed Kurt right now. Because while she was cocky, arrogant, aloof, anything else you wanted to call her, it was only skin deep. Deeper than that, she was hurting so bad she wanted to cry and keep on going until there was nothing left to cry out. It was bruising her insides, her heart kept clenching painfully, and all she could do was put on that sly grin, because anything else would be too close for comfort.

Kurt stood and linked his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her hair. "Come on, boo. Let's go have some girl time." He winked at Mr. Tall-Dark-and-_Haaaandsome_ before leading her away from the study room circa Hogwarts, A History.

Yes. Santana Lopez loved her Potter books. Everyone's got a skeleton in their closet. Hers just happened to be a little rainbow-y and magical, lately.

"Here we are. My dorm room. I have a single, so don't worry about gym socks strewn around the floor." He chatted, more to give her some static noise to align her thoughts than anything else. For that she was very thankful for. Now that she was here, she had no idea what to say. She didn't want the whole _it gets better _talk. She didn't need it. She didn't want to cut her hair short or dye it blond. Nor did she want to go to any gay bars or lesbian bars or _whatever_ you called them.

"Do you see any rainbows around here, San?"

"Don't call me San," she glared.

"Call it even for calling me Porcelain. It's better than Satan, or Sanny, so take it or leave it, sugar cake." He arched a brow, one hand on his hip, and waited.

"You're so gay."

"And you're not straight." Before she could launch into a scathing bitch-fight/tirade, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the bed, where he sat facing her and curled his legs up and to the side. She envied his grace and delicate charm, hated the way his hair was always so perfect, how even in a uniform he managed to stand out and be so _Kurt_, so himself. And with that, the floodgates opened, and she crawled into his lap.

He made no hushing noises, no promises that things would be better, simply held her with just the right amount of pressure and stroked her hair like her mother once had. "She doesn't love me—not like I do. She... I... I took that stupid leap like all the movies, and the books, and the fucking _everything_ says to. I told her how I felt, and she said she loves me, but she loves Artie, and she loves him more, and she's going to stay with the little—"

"Hey, now. Don't be calling names. Artie's not a bad guy."

"But he's—"

"The one she's with, I know."

"The worst part was that she said if she and _him_ ever broke up, and I was still single, _then_ she'd give it a shot!"

"Ouch. So you unloaded all of your feelings, put yourself out there, and she replied with, 'Well, I love you, but I love him, and I'm going to stay with him—but if we ever break up, and you're still single, then sure!' and breaks your heart."

Santana nodded, curling into him tighter as she cried and hiccuped.

"I'm so sorry, babe."

"I love her so much! How did you do this, with Finn, and that other stupid boy?"

Kurt chuckled. "I knew Finn was straight, so I knew I never had a chance with him. And somehow... I think somehow, that helped. With Blaine... I had a support system, which made all the difference. I put all my hopes in him, and then... when he decided to serenade that blond floozy, I had friends who offered to have a cocktail weenie roasting party to help me get over him, and David..."

"Yeah, you have someone who loves you _back, _like some Moulin Rouge excerpt!"

Kurt smiled above her head, but held back the chuckling. "You know what I love the most about him?"

"He's the finest piece of meat within a five mile radius?"

"His ass isn't bad, either, and the sex is fantastic, but even more than his fine mocha skin and lips that just _beg _to be debauch—"

Santana giggled, pressing into him as the sobs turned into shakes of laughter. Kurt grinned in success. When you could make _Santana Lopez_ giggle like a schoolgirl about something _sexual_, you had reason to feel proud.

"Seriously, though, I love the way he doesn't let me walk all over him. I love that I can talk with him about anything—_anything_-and it won't be too small or insignificant to him. I love that he is my equal, that if I have a problem, he's there to help me solve it. If I had dated Blaine, I would be miserable right now. He's too nice—I'd mow him over and leave Prada prints all over his _face, _and the poor thing would just smile charmingly and compliment me on my fine choice of footwear."

Santana laughed now, imagining just that.

"Exactly. So while you love Brittany, it wasn't meant to be, love. You need someone stronger than her, someone—don't shoot me—_brighter_ than her. She's sweet, and the most wonderful of people for your first love. She's puppies and kittens and baby penguins, but you need someone who will stand up for you, stand up _to_ you, and love you just as fiercely as you will love them. Be that man, woman—"

"I'm not a lesbian. I don't want a label."

Kurt laughed, and smoothed her ruffled metaphorical feathers. "Neither does David. I had no idea he_ wasn't _straight as a fork until he just _happened _to try to make a joke about everyone just assuming he _was_ straight. But he doesn't consider himself gay. He just likes who he likes, whether that person is male, female, butch, effeminate, or hairless baboon. Okay, I take that back. I'm sure he's discerning enough to ex out the hairless ones. That's just too much."

The Latina laughed and settled her head on the crook of Kurt's shoulder, absently realizing how much she'd actually missed him in the past few months. There was something about the way he'd just described his boyfriend that caught her attention on a deep level. To be that open and accepting, to just love who you love, with no labels, no pressure to define yourself to one side of the street or the other... was amazing. At first, it seemed like the guy might be a little flakey, because no labels? Wouldn't that mean he could end up saying, "Just kidding, I'm actually not that into you, cause you don't have the parts I'm _actually_ attracted to." But each time their respective clubs had gotten together, the dark Warbler had shown that he was completely Kurt's. As in head-over-heels, I'm-completely-devoted-to-you, I-want-more-than-just-hot-manman-sex-with-you, I-want-a-serious-relationship-to-last-longer-than-a-week sort of completely Kurt's.

Santana sighed longingly, though she'd never admit it. She just wanted something like that. Was that too much to ask for? Guy, girl, it didn't matter to her. What Kurt had said about his boyfriend, how he just liked who he liked, no matter if their reproductive organs were innies or outies, that was how Santana looked at people. It didn't matter to her all that much. People were still people, right? There wasn't a specific trait—besides the obvious _penis or vagina?—_that only one gender had. Guys could be idiots, girls could be idiots. Girls could be aggressive, guys could be aggressive. Look at Kurt. He was as feminine as Audrey Hepburn, but he'd just happened to be born male.

She sighed again. "I like that. That's... that's exactly how I see it. It's not like only guys can be horndogs, and not only girls can be sensitive."

Kurt laughed. "Oh, we can still be horndogs, love. There's just more than one side to everyone."

The dark haired girl nodded, thinking about that. So much of the time you only saw one side to someone—she was fantastic proof of that. Most people only saw a confident, probably mean, sex-crazed female. They didn't take the time to look deeper and find out that she loved Coconut Bliss' Chocolate Fudge Hazelnut ice cream, or that Titanic made her cry. They would _never_ guess that she had all of the Harry Potter books, complete with pages that had been dog-eared so many times, some of them had just died and ripped off, leaving perfect missing corners for her to flip to. They would _never _guess that she'd read the fourth book—her favorite—and seen the movie so many times she'd had to buy a new copy of the DVD. They would _never_ guess that during the fourth movie she'd stared at Cho Chang every chance she could get. They would _never_ guess that she had the soundtracks to both _A Very Potter Musical_ and it's sequel on her ipod... or that _Coolest Girl_ was her most listened to song.

A knock disturbed her introspective thoughts. Following Kurt's approval to enter—Santana rolled her eyes at that—the Asian Warbler entered. The Latina sensed, more than saw, that Kurt was startled by this, but the porcelain boy only smiled at his friend. "What brings you to my Hummel abode, Wes?"

A quirk of the corner of Wes' lips was all the reaction the pair got from Kurt's bad pun. "I couldn't help but guess what brought you here." At the scowl descending upon the girl's features, Wes held up his hand quickly. "No, I didn't eavesdrop, so don't glare at me. I just happen to have a younger sister that came to Dalton one day about a year ago and had that exact same expression. She... had some... romantic—uh—problems..." Wes sighed, and gave up trying to be polite. "She's a lesbian, and wanted to know her older brother would still be there for her. Even if our parents weren't so kind."

A stunned look settled onto both of the listeners' faces. Kurt, for one, hadn't realized that Wes had _any_ siblings, younger or older, and honestly, couldn't see Wes playing in the sandbox with a little girl. Then again, Kurt couldn't imagine Wes playing in a sandbox _period_.

Santana couldn't help but picture Cho Chang—the _actual_ Cho Chang, not the southern blond—and the offense she might have felt at the assuming male in front of her melted away. She also couldn't help but feel distinctly _caught in the middle of thinking about _his sister that way... and blushed. Yes, that's right. Santana Lopez _blushed_. Deal with it.

A smile spread across Wes' face, and he held out a piece of paper. "She goes to St. Josephine, in Marysville. This is her number. She's... been wanting someone to talk to."

One black brow rose, and she lifted her head from Kurt's (very comforting smelling) shoulder. "You're giving me your sister's number?" The boy in front of her nodded. "You're not worried I'll give her some sort of STD?"

Wes shook his head, eyes serious. "No."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you being so... nice?"

A sad smile played across the boy's lips. "Because when my sister figured out and accepted who she was, no one else did. It's hard, being different, and people ostracize those who are. She lost a lot of people who she thought were friends, and even now, a year later, there aren't a whole lot of people who are brave enough to talk to a girl who likes other girls. I've seen the way the others in your club treat you, so I think you have as much trouble finding friends as she does." He shrugged. "I'm not trying to set you up with her. Otherwise, I would interrogate you first, go through your criminal record, and probably make you sign a contract to ensure that if you ever hurt her, I have full legal rights to hurt you."

Santana looked at him blankly for a moment, then laughed. She crawled out of Kurt's lap, walked over, and wrapped her arms around this unexpectedly charming male. "Tough words, chiquito, and duly noted. Thank you."

To Kurt's ever-loving amazement, Wes—without a moment's hesitation—wrapped his arms around her, and held her tightly for a long minute. When he stepped back, the oddest expression was on his face. Tenderness.

"I wish I could have been there for my sister sooner, or done more. Maybe this is my second chance to do my good deed of the year." With a wink at Santana and a nod to Kurt, he walked back to the door, and as if nothing out-of-character had happened, he called over his shoulder, "See you at Warblers, Kurt," before exiting.

Kurt blinked. What. The. _Hell?_

But before he could think of it at all, the beautiful girl in front of him raced back and gave him the most enthusiastic hug he had ever gotten from her. "Thanks, Porcelain. For everything." She pressed a kiss to his cheek and grabbed her jacket before racing out.

Kurt stood and walked slowly to the door. He needed to have his own moment of verbal vomit with David, because if he didn't, he was sure that all that had happened would spew all over the closest Dalton student, and he was pretty sure he'd get even _more_ strange looks for that. So as he entered the common room once more, he was glad that those beautiful dark eyes were attached to a brain that seemed to have a sixth sense with somehow knowing when Kurt was in the same room. David's eyes zeroed in on Kurt, and he stood, meeting him halfway, then taking Kurt's hand and pulling him back out of the room. While there were a few catcalls behind them at David's sudden departure, no one was all that surprised by it, apparently.

"What happened?" the tall Warbler asked as he tugged Kurt into an abandoned classroom and settled his hip against one of the desks, Kurt's hand still in his.

Kurt felt it all pouring out at once, the entire story, and when he got to the part about Wes and his sister, David nodded, but stayed silent. When the flood abated at last, David pulled Kurt forward for a kiss.

"Poor thing. You've just gone through the loop, haven't you?" Kurt nodded, looking up through his lashes and pouting his lip out. David made an aw sound, and nipped the protruding lip playfully. "I think you should be rewarded for being such a good friend. As far as I can tell, not a whole lot of people would be willing to be a supporting hand for her." He cupped Kurt's cheek, kissing him softly now. Kurt sighed and his free hand came up to settle onto the V of David's shirt, between the lapels of his blazer.

"What happened to Wes' sister?" he asked when they finally separated enough to look into one another's eyes.

"Exactly what Wes said. She wasn't happy dating guys—it just seemed wrong—but it took her a while to figure out that it was because she liked _girls. _But when she told her best friend... she turned out to be homophobic, and backpedaled faster than Lance Armstrong in a race. The next day, Tia—that's Wes' sister—found out that her 'friend' had spread a rumor that Tia had tried to make a move on her, and that Tia hadn't listened when she'd said no."

"Oh my god," Kurt bit his lip.

"Yeah. It was really rough for a while. The school called Wes' parents, and that's how they found out..." he shook his head and rested it against Kurt's. "It was really bad. I don't know what happened after that. Wes never told me, and he still refuses to even talk about it. But if she's at St. Josie's, then Wes is paying for her tuition, not her parents, I'd bet."

"That's horrible."

"Yeah. She's a sweet girl, too. She came here once, when this all went down, and I swear, half of the guys here _melted_ at the sight of her. Big, dark eyes, nice mouth, and this expression that made everyone instantly want to protect her." He sighed.

Kurt smiled. "Aw, were you one of them?"

David nuzzled his nose against Kurt's. "No. I was one of the few who actually _did_ go and protect her. She stayed at my house for a bit, and she and my little sister got along _fabulously_. To this day, Celia has these horrifying _sleepovers _with her, where karaoke can be heard at all ungodly hours of the morning. Wes owed me coffee for a week."

A light seemed to go on over Kurt's head at last. "So _that's_ why Wes is so stern most of the time! He's been her guardian for so long, he's stuck in that constant support-support-support mode. He doesn't know how to let anyone help him anymore, does he?"

David thought about it for a long moment. "Now that you put it like that, that is _exactly_ what's happened. We—Blaine and I—knew something had changed in him, but we couldn't describe it. It was just like he'd shut himself off. But now that you've said that, I can see it."

Kurt smiled and kissed David's nose. "What can I say? I'm a genius like that," he said airily, making his partner laugh.

"Alright, genius. What am I thinking right now?"

"That's not a difficult question, Mr. Johnson. Haven't you heard that males think about sex every thirty seconds?"

"Hmm, I see your point." He dipped his head so he could nip the tip of Kurt's collarbone, making the pale boy gasp. "I should ask you a _harder_ question then."

"L-like how soon can we get out of three layers of uniformed clothing?"

"Oo, I like that question. I think we should time it—for scientific purposes, of course. An—" he paused to nibble a line up Kurt's neck to his lips, where he caught the smaller boy for a suddenly deep kiss, then just as abruptly separated and went back down the other side, "—independent project, if you will."

"Oh, I will _something_."

A husky laugh echoed in the room.

By the way, the answer was less than two minutes, although it would be argued later as to whether it was a minute and fifty-_one_ seconds or a minute and fifty-_three_ seconds.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_This is just sort of to tide you over until I can see the next Glee episode and go COMPLETELY AU from there. ^^ Hope you liked it, though! I tried to give the characters some actual DEPTH and allow you to see that they're so much deeper than what people see on the surface. I honestly think Santana could be a phenomenal character, which I hope to portray later. (winkwink)_

_Oh! And Tia! I already love Tia's character (winkwink). So if you want to see her, I made a deviantart account so I could put up what the OC characters look like, or just put up funny photos to share with you. ANYWAYS! If you would like to see what Tia looks like, go to akashaavani . deviantart .com /art /_Tia-Hayes-Preston-200972471_ (without the spaces, of course) to see her. Oooor you could just go to deviantart, search under 'newest' for Tia Hayes-Preston. Soooo pretty!  
_

_Hope you enjoyed!  
_


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N:**__ Okay, as much as I screamed and danced at Kurt and Blaine _**FINALLY**_ kissing, I don't think that'd work to have them suddenly kissing in this. Yeah. Would kinda ruin the whole _Kavid_ theme, don'tchyathink? SO! While I play the kiss on repeat like every other fangirl on the planet, I'm changing it in here. So whala! You can have it both ways! ;) _

_P.S. Has anyone ever read the FLIRT (Flint/Kurt) stories? Cause those are AWESOME! Let me know if anyone would be interested in me doing a version, cause it's been bouncing in my head, but I don't know if anyone would actually READ them. :S _

_Anyway! Enjoy my little fluff-bunnies!_

_

* * *

_

Kurt felt like he was in a daze. So much was happening. First Pavarotti, then Blaine suddenly announcing that he wanted to sing the duet with Kurt, it was all too much to deal with. So here he was, the embodiment of a gay boy, as he bedazzled Pav's casket, because anything _less_ than perfect would not be enough for his beloved friend and companion.

"What's that?"

Kurt looked up at Blaine from his focused work. "I'm decorating Pavarotti's casket," he said, and couldn't help that even his voice sounded a little lost.

"Well, finish up. I have the perfect song for our number and we should practice," Blaine said, trying to cheer him up.

"Do tell," Kurt made an effort to smile.

Blaine looked down at the table, as if trying to decide still. "Candles, by Hey Monday."

Kurt's brows rose. "I'm impressed," he smiled. "You're usually so Top 40."

"Well, I just wanted something more..." Blaine searched for the word. "Emotional?"

Kurt looked down at his work, then a thought crossed through his mind. "Why did you pick me to sing that song with?"

Blaine laughed, startling Kurt. "Kurt, after _everything_ that's happened this year, the one thing I have _never _doubted was your vocal talent." He looked at the brunette seriously now. "I realize that I've made some serious mistakes in the past, and I led you on without intending to. This is _not_ another one of those. I'm one of the ones that was trying to set you and David up, so I hope that says enough about my intentions, in general and towards you." He patted Kurt's hand, then settled back in his chair and crossed his legs—not in the way that David and Wes did, with the 'guy' way for resting their ankle on their knee, but the way Kurt did, the 'girl' way, with one knee over the other in a very classy, elegant fashion. "Kurt, I am your friend, and I will _always_ be your friend. This duet, is because you and I have that chemistry—for lack of a better word, I swear—needed in order to pull off a number that _moves_ people, that makes them look up, take notice and say, "_That's_ what I've been waiting for." I hope that it's because we're such good friends and we tell each other everything, no matter how hard it is to be honest, that we work _phenomenally _well when we sing together. So..." Blaine threw his hands up, tilting his head to the side and that goofy grin coming to play. "Does that explain it?"

Kurt grinned and leaned back in his chair now. "I am very impressed, grasshopper. You have come far in the time I've known you. A month ago, you wouldn't have been able to put _any _of that to words." Kurt clapped, giving the lead Warbler his due.

Blaine shrugged, looking a little embarrassed, honestly. "Yeah, well, I had a good teacher."

A sly grin spread over the countertenor's face, and he tilted his jaw up and to the side, making that 'Everyone has a little captain in 'em' pose. "Yes, I know. I'm the perfect specimen for articulate."

"I would actually leave it at 'perfect specimen,' but maybe that's just me."

The deep voice—and what it had just said—startled Kurt out of his impersonation of Captain Jack and blush a deep pink.

"Very nice, Mr. Johnson. You've made the perfect specimen of articulation _inarticulate_. And with that, I shall skip off to somewhere else and allow you two bunnies to have some... _articulate_... time." With a wink at them, he did precisely that.

"He just... skipped..." David looked from the empty hall behind him to his lovely partner. "Have I ever told you how wonderful you are?" He walked over with that unhurried purpose that always set Kurt's heard thudding just a little faster, a little harder, with that slow smile that made Kurt melt like a preteen girl watching Twilight.

Kurt masked his thudding-bunny-heart with an elegant arch of his brow. "Yes. But I wouldn't be opposed to hearing it again."

David's slow smile spread quickly now, and he leaned his hip on the desk to Kurt's left so he wouldn't crush the work of art taking place to the right. "You're wonderful. And you seem to have spread that to everyone else, because I could have sworn that I saw Wes _smile_ during Warblers today." He leaned forward and pressed a soft, adoring kiss on Kurt's lips. When he leaned back, he took Kurt's hands between his own. "I never got to say how sorry I am about Pav."

Kurt tried to act like he was okay, shrugging, but David knew him better than that. "I guess it was just his time," came the soft reply.

The darker boy was having none of it. "Come here." He tugged Kurt up to stand between his knees. David's arms wrapped themselves around the smaller boy, one hand coming up to cup the back of Kurt's head as the boy finally let it out. The brunette's arms wrapped tightly around David's waist and he buried his face in the crook of the dark boy's neck.

"I know it's stupid to cry over a bird, I know it is, but—"

"Kurt, _everyone_ cries when something dies. I still have the ashes from Bocelli, and I _specifically_ remember bawling like a baby when I went to woke up and saw him lying on the bottom of his cage." Dav id held him tighter, rocking a little from side to side.

"It's just... Dad never let us have pets... and then... so soon..."

"I know, baby. It's so hard to lose someone who gets to your heart." Kurt nodded into his shoulder, and slowly his sobs died to little sniffles.

"Thank you. For letting me ruin your blazer."

David laughed and shifted his weight to one hip so he could pull a hankie from his back pocket.

"A handkerchief? Really, David?"

"It was my grandfather's. Call me nostalgic, but he was the one stable person when I was growing up."

Kurt nodded, blowing his nose. "I have an entire _box_ full of the perfume my mother used to wear. When I'm really upset, I spray it on my pillow. It helps calm me down."

David continued to hold Kurt, his arms around the boy's shoulders, and turned to press a kiss to his forehead. "This hits too close to home right now, when everything was just starting to settle down."

Kurt nodded again. The tall boy sighed, aching for this beautiful boy that life just seemed intent on screwing over. David trailed little kisses down the pale countertenor's nose, then pressed endearing kisses to his closed eyelids, until he finally drew back and on milky cheek. When those brilliant multi-hued eyes opened again, David smiled. This boy was just so beautiful, it stopped his breath sometimes. The shape of those eyes, the color, defined with his moonlight skin and pert nose, those curved lips that were so frigging adorable when he smiled, but then turned sultry and sexy and inviting in a heartbeat. He leaned in and kissed this beautiful boy softly at first, then deeper, conveying everything that _couldn't_ be put into words properly. The kiss turned deeper when Kurt's tongue licked across the seam of David's lips, making David's breath catch and inhale quickly, and suddenly Kurt was there, delving in, and the kiss turned even more meaningful and passionate. The shorter boy pulled David closer by the lapels of his blazer, even as David's hands dragged lower, pressing each inch of Kurt into him until he could cup Kurt's _fine_ ass in his hands and hitch him that much closer. Kurt's gasp drove him on, and when pale hands cupped his face so tenderly as the boy tilted his head to deepen the kiss further, David made a low noise, drawn out slowly and achingly. "Kurt, sweetheart, we've gotta stop."  
"I don't want to."

"Hey, guys, I forgot my bag—oh my god! Sex! Sex!" Blaine's voice got them off-guard, and his screaming of sexual content brought boys running." Jeff and Brock were grinning at one another, some of the guys were fist-bumping, Wes was shaking his head (but smiling proudly) and Blaine was hiding into Nick's blazer, trying to rub his eyes clean, while the Warbler with the great smile simply patted his shoulder consolingly.

"We were _not_ having sex, you moron," David growled, but Kurt was ruining the menacing aura with his giggles and pink face hidden in David's jacket.

"Dude, way to go!" Flint, the tall, sandy-blond haired Warbler with the bulky build, was raising his fist in the air and instigating more cheering, bowling right over David's negations of sexual interactions.

"Calm down you perverts!" Kurt raised his voice to be heard over the cheering, and the room _exploded_ into laughter. "I will reiterate what David just said; we were _not. having. sex. _So go away, all of you, and leave us alone. And Blaine, seriously, you're the one who said we had to be sexy for regionals, and then you start screaming when David and I _kiss?_ You just told me you were one of the people trying to get us together! How can you be shocked?"  
"I said I was trying to set you two up, not shove you together so you could eat each others' faces like ravenous rainbow wolves and have sex in the _common room_! I study here! _Other people_ _study here_! And you're having sex on the _table_? What happened to missionary?"

"Missionary accomplished, let's move on from this subject, please," David's droll voice sent everyone back into hysterics. The guys closed in to thump the couple on the back and wander out form the room in animated pairs or groups, already gossiping like old grandmothers.

"Really, you two? Could you just not make it to the dorms?" Wes shook his head, but patted David's back and—to his ultimate demise—ruffled. Kurt's. hair. Kurt was going to annihilate him later. The glare he sent to the Asian Warbler should have withered him to ashes on contact, and Blaine backed of the way, muttering about homework before fleeing the room, but Wes just raised a mocking brow and left the room in-freaking-tact.

"I'm going to murder your best friend later tonight, David."

"Okay, hun. Just try not to leave a mess."

"Of course. I wouldn't want to ruin my latest murder outfit."

The pair grinned at one another before getting back to where they had left off.

As ravenous rainbow wolves.

K A V I D

"Has anyone ever literally died _on stage_?" Kurt asked as David came up beside him. David had been attempting to explain the events of a few days ago to Blaine, who had literally put his fingers in his ears and started singing Katy Perry's _Peacock_. David had given up, shaking with laughter, and upon looking over his shoulder, seen Kurt, stiff as a board (and not in a good way) staring at the curtains like they were about to swallow him whole.

David looked shocked, his eyes widening and his mouth opening like a fish for a split second before it shut and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are you _nervous_?"

"Please don't judge me. This is the first time I've had a solo in front of a competition audience... I have this nightmare that I'm going to forget the lyrics or I'm going to sing and nothing is gonna come out..." He looked at David, who was trying his absolute hardest not to grin, but his efforts were pitiful, at best. Kurt smiled. "Okay, you can judge me."

"_I _think it's adorable," David said, taking a step closer to Kurt. "I think _you're _adorable." He walked behind the smaller Warbler and wrapped his arms around him. "The only people," he said in a _low_ voice, whispering into Kurt's ear, "who are going to be dying tonight are the people in that audience, because you are going to _kill_ this thing." He nipped Kurt's ear before walking forward as the Warblers were called to stage.

And when they finished, and the Warblers converged on Blaine and Kurt, and Blaine was shouting and dragging Kurt in for a big hug, David grinned, so proud. And when Blaine released the taller, paler boy, David wrapped his arms around him and said in his ear, "No matter what happens, you have just taken that first step towards Broadway. _Always_ remember this moment, Kurt Hummel, because everyone else will write this down someday."

K A V I D

Santana was _nervous_. Hell, she wasn't even the one singing for the first part, really, but she knew who was out in the audience. She tried to look out into the audience before she had to go onstage, craning her neck but trying not to catch the notice of the audience on the far left side. She was looking for a small girl, silky black hair, long, left down, with the darker sort of Asian skin, and big, wide, almond-shaped eyes of a black so dark they reflected whatever she looked at. Yes, Santana had looked up her facebook page. Shut up.

After she had driven home, she'd stared at the numbers on the slip of paper for an hour, debating whether to call. It would be stupid, she didn't know this girl, didn't know anything about her, she was just the sister of a friend of a friend. Not exactly close by _any_ means. And to top it off, she sounded like a _nice_ girl, one who would probably take one look at Santana and instantly think, _so _you're_ the person I've been talking to? Ugh_. The would have _nothing_ in common. Except there was something about the way Kurt's friend had looked so confident when he was telling her to call his sister—his _sister_, what the hell was he thinking, giving her number to a total stranger?—that Santana had been driven by something she hadn't understood to do it. Call this stranger and talk about... what, exactly? How she liked a girl?

But in the end, she had. Her fingers had been dialing the number before she'd bidden them to, and when the voice—rounded, full, a little soft, velvet—had answered—_hello?—_ Santana had wanted to know the person behind the voice that was both old and young at the same time, soft but strong.

"Umm," had come the _very_ intelligent answer of Santana Lopez, before she snapped to. "Uh, hi, is this Tia?"

"Yeah, that's me.'"

"Listen, I know this might be strange, but your brother gave me your number earlier—"

"Oh! You're the girl from New Directions!"

"Yeah, that's me," she mimicked, trying for confidence but maybe not succeeding completely. "I'm Santana Lopez, by the way. Anyway, you're brother—"

"Wes already explained everything. He asked me earlier if he could give you my number."

"Oh." Well, that explained why he had been so willing to hand over his sister's number to a total and complete stranger.

There was laughter on the other end of the line, tingling up her spine like soft fingers stroking upwards oh-so-tenderly. Santana didn't understand it, had never, _ever_ felt something like that. "He didn't say anything about that, did he?"

"No, not really."

"Well, then. _That_ must have been weird. Trying to figure out why the big brother would have his lesbian little sister's number out to a girl she doesn't know. You have guts to call, then. I definitely wouldn't have."

"Why _did_ you give me your number?" The Latina blurted out before she could help herself. Dammit, she had _not_ wanted that to come out of her head. She had _just_ been telling herself to _not_ say that out loud, for Christ's sake.

"Because last year, I... um... where to begin?" There was a sigh, and then a sound like the girl was turning over on thick, fluffy sheets. "Last year I sort of fell in love with my best friend. She was beautiful, and funny, and had these _curves_, but... she was very strictly Catholic, and when I finally got the courage to tell her how I felt..."

"It blew up in your face?"

"Yeah. Exactly that. And I can't be like your friend, Kurt. I can't change schools, and my parents aren't very supportive of it. But my situation wasn't as... um... life-threatening, so I guess it isn't so bad."

"It still sucks, though. Kurt at least got a boyfriend out of it. You got cut off from _everyone_, and I get—" she broke off. She hadn't 'come out of the closet' or anything, so there wasn't that much to say.

"What happened?"

She let out a long sigh. "I told my best friend that I loved her. I've been through so many guys," she said before she could stop herself. It was as if now that she'd broken the surface, the dam cracked, splintered and shattered, and everything rushed out as gravity tugged it out. "I've been on so many dates, it's disgusting. But I _hated_ them. I hated it. I had to be in control of _everything_, otherwise it just plain _sucked_, and then I figured it out, and I told her, and she said that if she was every single at the same time I was, _then_ she'd give it a try."

There was a sharply indrawn breath. "Well, _fuck_."

Santana laughed, and sniffled. "Yeah, well, there wasn't much of that afterward. Or _any_, for that matter."

Tia laughed, and it was rich, like molten chocolate. "Nice. I bet the guys are _hating_ it right now."

And like that, the two had hit it off. Santana had discovered that just because someone was _nice_ didn't mean they were the walk-all-over, judge-you-instantly type. Tia had a wicked sense of humor, which matched Santana's own, but she was so smart, her mind leaping from one point to another, always making the latina laugh, but she was... she had this childish enthusiasm for things. The way she described things, everything was new and exciting, she was so sweet, that Santana couldn't help but like the girl instantly. Not necessarily in a _that_ sort of liking way, no one falls that quickly, but in the week that had followed, they had talked so much Santana had had to adjust her phone plan to accommodate more minutes so they could talk about everything.

The best part, was that it had been _Tia's_ idea for _Trouty Mouth_. Santana hadn't known how to break up with Sam, feeling like that was her last tie to anything _normal_, and Tia had suggested what Tina had suggested—sing about it. And so, after a horrifying verse and a raging fight afterwards, Santana Lopez had said goodbye to men. _Period._

But this... this was the first time Santana would actually _meet_ Tia.

So she had reason to be nervous, alright?

Then she heard the lines that signaled the entrance for the rest of the girls from ND to enter the stage, and she put her game face on. And as she sang the high notes for _Get It Right_, she searched the crowd until her eyes landed on long, silky black hair, long black eyes so dark they were depthless, and a smile so wide and adorable that not even the ice around Santana's heart was left unaffected. She was... _beautiful_. Santana smiled at her, letting the girl know she saw her, and recognized who she was. She saw the black eyes widen, and then the smile followed, and when the song was done, the girl stood and applauded loudly.

So when Yenta started the song _Loser Like Me_, and it came time for the latina's little line, "I don't care," she looked straight at Tia, repeating words Tia had said she's told herself over and over to get herself through the first month. A long-fingered, delicate hand flew to the girl's (gorgeous and full) mouth before she smiled, obviously tearing up. Yep. Santana was just _that_ good. She winked, smiled, and sang with _everything_ she had, because she had someone watching her who knew the meaning of the words closely.

K A V I D

AND

S A N T I A

"Santana!" The voice made the girl's head whip around, and her eyes caught on just the person she had been looking for in the crowded lobby.

"Tia!" Before she could say anything else, the Asian girl had launched herself at Santana and was hugging the breath from her. Santana didn't know how to react for a second. First off, Tia was smaller than Santana had imagined—she was Yenta's size, but with a more solid, curved figure—and second off, no one had ever really reacted that way upon seeing Santana. They might give her a hug after a moment's hesitation, but no one ever, _ever_ positively _launched _ themselves at her to give her a hug.

She closed her eyes against the stupid tears that sprang up and hugged her unlikely friend back just as tightly. "I see you liked it, huh?"

"Liked it? You guys _nailed_ that! Where did you guys get those songs from—why did you use my words—did you mean to—what did you—"

"Whoa, whoa! Easy there!" Santana let her go so she could look at the girl as she answered her numerous and garbled questions. "First—original songs. We decided that in order to sing what would reach for the hearts of the audience, because it's really how we feel, so it means more to us. Then... I used them because I knew you would understand." She didn't mean for it to come out _that_ way, because she just barely knew this girl, right? It was too soon for anything. And rushing into things was _so_ not where she wanted to go with this. So... yeah.

"Would you like to go out to dinner with me?"

All thoughts flew out of her head. "What?"

She snapped back to it to look at the top of a shiny black head, which was dipping down to hide the nervous features. "I was just... I don't know what came over me... it just sort of..."

"Hell yeah."

Santana couldn't help the grin that spread over her face as Tia's head whipped up with a distinct _crack_ from a vertebra in her neck.

"Whaa-_huh?_"

Santana laughed. "Hell yeah. I'd love to go out to dinner with you. I even know this perfect little restaurant."

"Oh." It took a moment, and then Tia grinned. "Well, that's great, cause otherwise this would have gotten _really_ awkward, _really_ fast!"

Santana laughed. "Hmm, hadn't thought about that."

"So, wait. You don't think it's too soon, or that it's weird, or that I'm just globbing on to the first—"

"Whoa! Slow down. That's the answer. To everything. We'll just... take it slow, and... see where it goes." She wrinkled her nose as she smiled. "And maybe we'll both get some lady kisses."

Tia beamed, and Santana was absolutely _smitten_. This girl was dangerously adorable. Dangerous to Santana's bad-girl image, anyway. And her I-go-it-alone attitude. And the reasonable ability to say 'no.' That was going to go out the window, Santana could just tell.

"I see you two have met," came a smooth voice behind them, and they turned to see a group of Warblers headed their way. Kurt, with his arm wrapped around David's waist and David's arm around Kurt's shoulders, was grinning at Santana, while the lead vocalist—Blaine? The Dapper One, that's all Santana knew—and the Asian Warbler accompanied them.

"Wes!" Tia launched herself at him, now, and the group watched as Wes spun her in a quick circle before setting her down.

"Which team did you vote for?" he asked, grinning.

"Ummmm—both!" She nodded solemnly, to which he responded with a barking laugh and a shake of his head.

"Psh. Traitor."

"Tia!" Dapper Boy rushed forward and picked her up, to which she giggled and squirmed.

"Blaine, you haven't gotten any taller! When are you going to hit that growth spurt?"

"Never. It's the recessive hobbit genes. I got _all_ of them."

"David!" she cried, and wriggled out of the leader's arms to give a hug to the tallest boy.

"Hey, Tia. Nice to see you're doing good."

"Oh, yeah, I'm doing great! I see you've finally found a man," she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "So the question is: Have _you_ been... _doing_... _good_?"

Kurt laughed and held out his hand. "I'm Kurt. The one who's been doing David..." he winked, "good."

Tia laughed, and wiggled her eyebrows again. "I _seee_." She ignored his hand and stepped forward to give him a hug.

"She's allergic to handshakes," Wes informed them in a very serious manner.

"Ah. Duly noted." Kurt gave her a hug back. "So, are you two..." he looked back and forth between the two lipstick queers.

Wes' eyes looked between them as well, as if for the first time noticing the position he'd found them in.

"Uh... well, I did ask her out to dinner."

"Then in this case, Miss Lopez, I will need you to sing that contract." The boy's face was _completely _serious.

"Wes! You didn't!" Tia's smile disappeared, replaced by a scowl and an expression to match his, completely serious.

"Yes, I did. You knew I would."

"Did not!" He arched a brow, as if to ask her to listen to how she'd just responded like a two-year-old. "Wesley Whitford Hayes-Preston!"

"Whitford?" Kurt whispered to David, while everyone tried not to laugh.

Wes was about to scowl at her for using his middle name, but at that moment she walked right up to him, grabbed his cheeks between her long (and yet still so small!) fingers, and _tugged_. That's right. She walked up to Wesley (Whitford) Hayes-Preston, grabbed his cheeks and tugged, flapping them in and out. "Wes, you _told_ me you wouldn't give her The Lecture! You _promised_ you wouldn't do this! How could you?" She continued flapping his cheeks until his face broke from it's grave expression and he grinned, laughing until she couldn't pull his face apart anymore.

"Easy, easy! I need this for later," he said in the most teenage way he'd ever spoken.

"You. Told. Me. You. Wouldn't. Do. That!"

"I said I would _attempt_ not to. And I did. It was too tempting, though."

"You are such a _boy_!" The little firecracker put her hands on her hips and stared at him. He mocked her stance.

"And whatchya gonna do 'bout it?"

Stares. _Stares_. They couldn't stop _staring_. So _this_ was the undiscovered True Wes in his natural habitat!

"I'm going to _end_ you, that's what I'm gonna do 'bout it!"

"I'm going to take pictures so I can blackmail him for _years_. T, pull his cheeks again!"

Tia jumped on to the idea before it even registered to the soon-to-be-victim, and grabbed his cheeks while he stood clueless. She pinched his cheeks and pulled them up, yelling, "Smile!" as David whipped out his cell and snapped a photo. The flash jolted Wes out of his stupor and he yelled an indignant, "Oh, _hell_ no!" as he now _launched_ himself at the devious Warbler, who held the phone up out of his reach.

"Hey, I wanna see that!" And Blaine, the shortest Warbler, _launched_ himself upwards, somehow managing to jump almost twice his height to grab the phone and run without watching where he was going, laughing and shouting back as Wes chased after him, "Hey! This is awesome! I'm sending this to my phone, David! You're awesome Tia!" The pair of couples left watching turned to each other, then back at the duo who were running around the now-emptied lobby, screaming insults at each other with comebacks via death threats, more screaming, more running, up stairs, out of sight...

Wait for it...

Blaine skidding out of a door on the first floor, looking around frantically, then into the auditorium and out of sight. Wes entering the lobby via the door, looking around evilly, then pinning them. Kurt pointed to auditorium while David pointed to the lady's restroom, grinning.

Wes, with a deathly glare at his soon-to-be-deceased-long-time-best-friend, ran towards the auditorium.

Wait for it...

3.14 seconds later, Blaine, laughing hysterically and crying, ran back into the lobby, closely followed by Wes. They were closely matched—Blaine, crafty and quick to think of a helpful dodge, versus Wes, star of the track team and setter of Ohio's records.

Wes must have anticipated the not-so-Dapper-Boy's moves, because he was remarkably close on Blaine's heals, and with on spring-loaded _launch_, he tackled the shorter male to the ground.

"I've got my money on Blaine," David said, calculating the odds with an impartial, calm attitude.

Kurt shook his head. "Wes has righteous fury."

David turned to Kurt, eyes now alight with mischief. "Loser buys dinner."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Baby, _please_, think higher. Or in this case _lower_." He cocked his hip and gave his partner a sexy once-over. "Loser," he said, walking his fingers down towards the dark boy's belt, "gets to be bottom."

David's eyes were now alight with more than just mischief. "You're on, sweetheart."

K A V I D  
AND  
S A N T I A

"Dammit. Santana, take note. _Never_, under _any _circumstances, make a bet with the resident-fucking-genius."

Santana laughed, hands on her hips. "So Porcelain, what color will the handcuffs be?"

Kurt turned pink, but managed to smirk at her convincingly. "Hunny, he doesn't _need _handcuffs." David gave him a sideglance and smiled, his hands unconsciously twitching in anticipation.

"You are going to _die_ Anderson." Wes followed them out to the parking lot, glaring at the aforementioned boy.

"Not before you will. I managed to send it to _all_ of the Warblers in the time it took for you to catch me and get the phone out of my hands."

And the group watched as the Asian Warbler launched himself at the Hobbit Warbler once again.


End file.
